The Phantoms of the Lighthouse
by KaitlynRose
Summary: An isolated lighthouse in the middle of no where. For sixty years the keepers have disappeared or gone mad. Will they stop it once they get snowed in, or end up like the rest? COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**The Phantoms of the Lighthouse**

By: KaitlynRose

Author's Note: Beaver Head Lighthouse is a real building that has been out of use for some time, but for the purpose of this story I'm going to make it a fully operational place again with keepers. I have never been to Beaver Island, Michigan. I'm sure it is a great and beautiful place, but in this story its going to become "supernaturalized". (Insert evil laughter here)

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Sam and Dean, (though I fantasize about them often). Please don't sue me.

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Sam leaned against the railing of the ferry that was taking them and their car across part of Lake Michigan to Beaver Island. The sky over head was a dull gray and the blowing wind whipped his hair about wildly.

The water was choppy and murky looking from the lack of sun light. Seagulls flew over head screeching loudly hoping for passengers on the ferry to toss them some popcorn or a potato chip.

He could go sit in the car, or even inside the ferry's café, but he felt drawn to this spot. He was content to stand there and listen to the gulls and the motor cutting through the water. He stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets and was grateful for the warmth of his new parka. It had been cold in New York, but if it got any colder here it would snow.

"Here, thought you might like this." Dean appeared at his side holding two steaming cups of hot chocolate.

"Oh, yes," Sam said taking his cup from Dean.

"Dude, it's freezing out here. Come inside before you catch a cold."

"Maybe in a bit," Sam replied. Dean was still in a bit of mother hen mode even though Sam was healing really well from his last supernatural encounter. "We spend so much time cooped up in the car that it feels good to just stand in the fresh air."

"Yeah, but at least my car has a heater!"

"You can go back in if you want," Sam told him. "I'm not forcing you to stay."

Dean sighed. "Well, on the bright side you won't have to spend too much time in the car for the next couple of weeks. We'll actually be living at the light house while we work there."

"That'll be nice." Sam was actually looking forward to being settle in one spot, evenif it was only for a few weeks.

"It'll be different, that's for sure," Dean said.

"I never realized how big the Great Lakes were. All you see is water. It almost feels like being on the ocean."

The two stood in silence and sipped their cocoa. A few minutes later Beaver Island came into view. Sam noticed the island had a thin layer of fog surrounding it, giving it a mysterious feel.

Rain drops began to fall softly and Sam followed Dean inside to the small café and had a seat in one of the booths. In a matter of minutes the rain was coming down hard.

"Great," Dean complained. "Talk about making a gloomy day even gloomier."

"Just be glad it isn't snow. It's definitely cold enough for snow."

"After this job is over I'll be sure to find us one in Florida."

Sam laughed and actually spit out some of his cocoa. "Sorry."

"We may as well go below and get in the car," Dean suggested. "It shouldn't be too much longer."

"Sure."

The two went back out side in the pouring rain and hurried down the stairs to the floor below, which was sheltered from the rain.

As soon as Dean got in the car he started the engine and turned on the heater. "I have a feeling that by tonight this will be snow." Sam nodded in agreement.

About fifteen minutes later Dean was driving off of the ferry and heading into town. As usual, it wasn't much of a town. It looked to have all of twenty streets in it before it turned into rugged forest.

They went to the Nautical Museum on Willow Road. That was where they were supposed to meet their new employer.

Dean parked in front of the building and they went inside. The building was decorated inside to resemble a ship. The windows were shaped like portholes, steering wheels were mounted to the walls, and numerous pictures of boats and sailing ships were plastered on the walls.

A friendly looking old man approached them. He looked to be no more that five and a half feet tall. He had a weathered face with many wrinkles and a tuft of snow white hair on his head.

"Hello, there. You two must be Sam and Dean Hart." He stuck out a hand towards Sam.

"Yes sir, we are," Sam replied. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Sam."

"My you are a tall fella aren't you?"

"Yes sir," Sam laughed. He was used to people commenting on his height.

"Hello," Dean said and shook the old man's hand.

"My name is George Masters."

"Thank you for giving us this job, Mr. Masters."

"Oh, call me George. Let me find my glasses and I'll drive out to the light house with you two and show you what to do."

"Sir, your glasses are on your head," Dean told him.

"Oh yes. So they are." He pulled his glasses down and then walked over to the door where a long black slicker was hanging. He slipped on his coat and pulled on a pair of goulashes.

"At the lighthouse there will be proper gear for you two. You can't live on this island without rain coats and boots and the like. Winter starts very early this far north."

They all walked outside. George told them to follow him. He climbed into an old Ford pickup and drove off.

Dean actually had a hard time keeping up with the old guy. The roads were wet and slick and they twisted this way and that. Several times he worried about skidding off the road.

"Man, this little old fella sure likes to floor it."

"He's lived here his whole life probably," Sam said. "I'm guessing he could drive these roads blind folded."

They drove all the way to the other side of the island, which took over half an hour because of the curved roads. The road was paved but there were no houses or people anywhere that they could see. Every now and then they would see something that might have been a driveway, but if a house was there it was way back in the trees.

"Now this is what you call the boonies," Sam said.

Finally George turned into a driveway and they started to drive down hill. Over the tops of the trees they could see the top of the light house. As they drove farther down the gentle slope of lake side cliff they arrived at a piece of jutting land that was about thirty feet above the lake. Everywhere as far as the eye could see was trees.

Sam bet it would have been beautiful if they had been here two weeks ago when everything was in full color. Now the leaves were all fallen and the trees resembled wooden skeletal fingers reaching up to the sky.

They parked their vehicles in front of the main door and climbed out. George walked up to them and hurried them inside to the living quarters to get out of the rain.

Dean and Sam removed the wet parkas and hung them on the hooks next to the door. George flipped the switch and an over head light lit up the entry way.

"Your job while you're here is to maintain the house and the light house. Much of the furniture here is antique. The building itself is over a hundred years old and in original condition."

They entered the main room and saw over stuffed furniture, pine wood rustic tables and a rocking chair. Thick quilts in rich reds and blues lay on the backs of the sofas and there was a nautical feel to the place that was similar to the museum they just left. Model ships lined the mantle of the fire place along with other wooden carving. The place felt timeless, like a lodge in the Adirondacks.

George led them through the house. The dinning room had a long, aged, wood table and brass candlesticks. A stack of white linens were placed in a closet in the corner. The kitchen resembled an old farm house with a six burner stove and large sink basic. The floor was a gray stone tile.

'Living here was going to be really nice,' Sam thought. He especially liked that every room seemed to have a fireplace.

"The pantry is through there, the back porch is there and the bedrooms are upstairs."

"This place is awesome," Dean said.

"A few years back the historical society did preservation work on the place, spruced it up real nice. During the summer months we get a lot of tourists out here, brings a lot of money to the island. This time of year the island goes to sleep and hibernates till spring."

"How many people live on the island year round?" Sam asked.

"About five hundred total. The general meeting places are church on Sunday, the General Store on Main Street, or Clara's Diner on Willow Road. You boys are going to need to go to the supermarket and stock up on food. Here's a voucher to use at the market. It's for $300 to get you started. Be sure to buy a lot of non-perishables. When the snow comes you two will be snowed in for a while. There's only one plow for the entire island and because you are so far out of the way you'll get you road plowed last."

"Are you serious?" Sam asked. "What if there's an emergency?"

"You have a radio to call the sheriff for help. If the roads aren't plowed then a Sno-Cat will come out to get you. My advice is for you two to be careful and look after each other. This place is really isolated once the snows come."

Dean and Sam looked at each other. Suddenly this idea didn't seem as appealing as it had just a few minutes ago but it was too late to back out now.

"Follow me to the lighthouse and I'll show you your duties there."

George led them to the back of the house and opened a large wooden door. Before them was a tall spiral staircase that seemed to go up forever. George started climbing with Dean and Sam following.

"Now it's very important that the windows up here get washed once a week. The light itself needs to be tested every single night whether it is to be used or not. On clear nights with a good moon you don't need to run the light. If there's no moonlight then you run it. Obviously during times of rain, fog, or snow you will have the light running even during daylight hours. In the main house is a radio and occasionally a ship may call in and report something to you or ask a question. It doesn't happen too often cause the coast guard is out there, but some of the old timers like to still call in."

George kept talking all the while climbing the stairs. Dean and Sam were panting heavily by the time they made it to the top.

"Don't worry, every time you climb these things it gets easier and easier," George said with a chuckle. "Now, the switches are over here. This one is for the light, this one is for rotation, and this one is for the fog horn. To change the bulb you simply remove this glass panel, very carefully I might add. They are very expensive to replace. Pop the burnt bulb out and insert the new one. Spare bulbs are in the closet over there. Put the glass panel back and run a second check."

"Now, should the electricity go out there is a back up generator for the light house. It's located right outside at the base of the tower. You'll need to keep it free from snow or it will become a fire hazard and not work. There is also a generator for the house, too. The gasoline reserve is out back in a giant tank."

"How often does the power go out?" Dean asked.

"Truthfully, not that often. The power lines are under ground so they're safe from the winds. Now follow me back down the stairs."

George was like a machine. Dean and Sam were trying to remember all his instructions.

"In the shed outside there is two snowmobiles for you to use. They are not toys to go joyriding on. They are your main transportation once you're snowed in."

"Got it," Dean said.

"Maintaining the snowmobiles is also part of your job. Change the oil if need be and so forth."

"Just how bad are the snow storms around here? I mean, this isn't going to be like Stephen King's The Shining is it?" Sam asked.

"That all depends on how easily spooked you two are. For years people have claimed this place is haunted, but I've never seen anything to make me believe that."

"Never?" Dean asked.

"No, never. There are no such things as ghosts."

"Then what do you think happened to the last care taker?" Sam questioned.

"I think he couldn't take the loneliness and he split. I won't lie to you boys. It's not easy being out here. It's definitely not a job for a single person. Personally, I prefer to have men with families stay here during the winter. A wife and kids are good things when you're cut off from the world."

"Then why did you hire us?" Dean asked.

"Because you two are the only ones who applied for the job," George answered. "After John vanished a couple of weeks ago the stories of this place being haunted started up again and no one wants to work here now. My advice to you two is to keep busy. Make sure you have plenty of books to read. There is a television upstairs along with a large assortment of DVD's. There's no cable, but you do have an antenna.

"What about internet service?" Sam asked.

"You can use the phone lines unless they go out. There's a pool table upstairs along with other games and stuff to do during your down time. Well boys, I really need to get going."

Sam and Dean followed George to the front door where he put his slicker back on.

"You each get paid $300 a week, which is good money since you don't have to pay for room and board or utilities. Fred, the mailman, will bring your checks to you when the road is clear. If the road is impassable he'll leave them at the General Store for you to pick up when you next get to town. Any questions?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other and then looked to George and shook their heads.

"Okay then, I'll see you two around." He handed them the keys and went out into the storm.

Dean closed the door behind him.

"Wow." Sam ran a hand through his hair. "For an old guy he sure has a lot of energy."

"Definitely," Dean agreed. "I'm going to run out to the car and grab our things."

"I'll come too," Sam offered.

They each grabbed a slicker hanging next to the door and ran to the car. As fast as they could they grabbed their bags with their personal belonging and carried them to the house. Then they made a second trip and grabbed items from the trunk; salt, shot guns with rock salt, dream catchers, and Dean's EMP detector.

Once back in side Dean spoke up, "Well, we may as well move in."

They went upstairs with their bags and checked out the bedrooms. There were two rooms with one full size canopy bed, and then there were two rooms that had two full size sleigh beds in each one. All four rooms had fireplaces. They were tastefully decorated with simple linens and handmade quilts. The furniture was fashionable carved and simple white lace curtains hung from the windows.

"So do you want your own room, or do we share a room?" Dean asked.

"We might as well have our own bedroom," Sam replied. "We're about to be stuck together every minute of the day. We'll probably want a little privacy in the evening."

"Okay, well I'm going to go ahead and take this room," Dean said, going into a blue room that had two beds in it. The walls weren't painted as much as they had been washed in a pale blue color allowing for some of the natural wood to show through.

Sam picked the green room that was right next to Dean's. It only had one bed in it. Sam didn't understand why Dean picked a room with two beds but whatever he wanted was fine by him.

They unpacked their belongings and Sam plugged in his laptop and logged on to the internet. He figured he should do some research as soon as possible in case the phone line went down suddenly from the storm that was currently raging outside.

"I'm going to go and get the light house up and running," Dean said.

"Okay, I'll be here when you get back."

"All right. I'll also rummage through the pantry and see if I can find some food for us to eat tonight."

"Great," Sam replied as he tapped on the keys.

Suddenly a loud thunder rolled across the sky and a flash of lightning lit everything up. A loud crackling noise could be heard coming from the back of the house and then the lights flickered several times.

"What the hell?" Sam gasped.

"That came from the light house," Dean replied and started running with Sam right behind him.


	2. Visits

Chapter 2: Visits

Dean and Sam hurried through the house and up the stairs of the lighthouse. Again they were panting heavily once they reached the top. Outside more thunder and lightning continued across the sky. Suddenly another bolt struck down from the sky and struck a near by tree with a loud crack. From the limitless view from the windows of the lighthouse they watched the tree burn until the rain finally put the fire out.

Dean realized the light wasn't working. He tried to turn on the lantern but the bulb wouldn't light.

"I think we got hit by lightning," Dean said. He started moving the glass panel with Sam's help and then he exchanged the bulb. It was the biggest light bulb he had ever seen. Together they replaced the glass and then Sam walked over and flipped the switch. Once more the high powered beam of light cut through the rain and gloom.

"Well, that's one crisis solved," Dean said.

"I think we should get out of here just in case this place gets hit again," Sam said. The storm was getting worse, not better.

"Yeah, I think you're right," Dean agreed.

Once back down stairs the two went to the kitchen. Sam found a few cans of Campbell's beef and barley soup in the pantry along with some saltine crackers and half a bag of Oreo's.

"Looks like the last light keeper was a light eater," Dean said.

"Maybe he disappeared before he had a chance to stock up on groceries."

"Maybe."

They rummaged through the kitchen and found a pot, bowls, and silverware. Sam made the soup while Dean checked out the fridge. He ended up throwing away spoiled milk, rotten apples, and onions that had turned into plants. He did manage to find a couple of bottles of beer.

"Sweet," Dean announced, holding up his find to Sam.

"Excellent." Sam poured the soup into the bowls and then divvied up the crackers and even the Oreo's. They ate at the small wooden table in the kitchen since there was no point in messing up the dining room.

"We should make a point of going to the market tomorrow," Sam said. "We don't want to get caught here with no food."

"Totally," Dean replied.

"You know, there's something we need to seriously think about."

"What?"

"Well, let's say this ghost doesn't show himself right away. We don't know who the ghost is yet so we don't know who's remains to dig up and burn. We might be here a couple of weeks."

"So?" Dean asked.

"What are we going to do if we get snowed in here and can't get out? Are you prepared to stay here till spring?" Sam asked.

"I don't think we'd be stuck here till spring. George said that the plow will come this way, it just comes here last."

"But if we should get several snow storms in a row, we could be here for a while."

"It's a risk, but I think we'll be fine. Besides, it may take a while to get rid of the ghost," Dean replied.

"That's another thing we'll have to do tomorrow…research. We need to know who we're up against and just how ticked off this ghost is."

"We can start at the library and even the Nautical Museum should provide some info. Like I said, these disappearances and bouts of insanity have been going on for sixty years, so what ever we're looking for will predate that."

"There should be a list of all the past keepers at the museum. This ghost is probably one of them or connected to one of them somehow."

"Makes sense. You know, we should probably check out the library here and the DVD collection. Honestly, we are going to need to find a way to entertain ourselves around here."

"We'll have plenty of time to practice our pool game," Sam joked. It was a known fact that dean was a champion pool hustler.

"You mean you can practice your game," Dean smirked. "Mine's already perfect."

They finished up their meager meal and put the dishes in the sink. Sam washed and Dean dried.

"I don't know about you, but after driving all for two straight days I'm beat," Dean said.

Sam stole a glance out the window. "The storm seems to be finally letting up."

"Good. Hopefully we won't get hit by any more lightning." They were half way up the stairs when Dean reminded Sam, "Don't forget to take your prescription."

"I won't," Sam said.

"The doc said you had to finish all ten days of the antibiotic."

"I know, I was there, remember," Sam laughed. "Besides, my neck and arm are healing fine."

"Still, take your meds."

"I will! Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Sammy."

"It's Sam," he reminded as he closed the door, although he didn't even know why he bothered. Once inside his room Sam changed into his sweat pants. He looked around his new room. It was nice. The blankets were thick and soft and the pillows were fluffy. In the corner of the room on a small table was a stack of books. He looked at the pile and saw they were mostly murder mysteries and horror stories. He usually didn't go for this type of reading but he didn't have anything else so he picked one of them up and flipped through it. He climbed into his bed and started to read.

Outside the rain had stopped but the wind continued to blow wildly. The windows rattled and a when a particularly strong gust hit the house the window made a whistling noise. The temperature in the room began to drop. At first Sam didn't notice as he read his book but soon he was setting the book down and rubbing his hands together to ease the chill in his fingers.

He suddenly realized that the chill in the room wasn't natural. He got out of bed and walked to his door to check the temperature of the hallway. He turned the knob but the door didn't open. He tugged and pulled on it but it remained shut.

He turned to look around his room and listened carefully for any strange noise. Unfortunately there was so much noise from outside that he couldn't detect anything out of the ordinary. His nose picked up the smell of ozone in the air.

"Hello?" Sam called. He waited and continued to listen. He blew on his fingers trying to warm them. Then he rubbed his hands up and down his bare arms. He realized he could see his breath when he exhaled.

"If you can hear me do something," Sam said patiently.

Sam gasped when something touched him on the shoulder. "Show yourself."

"_get__ out"_

The words were little more than a whisper but they were said right next to Sam's ear. Once more Sam grabbed for the door knob and tried to open the door but like before it was stuck.

"Dean!" Sam called and pounded on the door. "Dean!"

Dean had just fallen asleep when he heard Sam calling him and pounding on the door. In a flash he was out of his bed and at Sam's door.

"Sam?"

"Dean, the door's stuck. Something's in here with me."

"Are you in danger?" Dean demanded.

"I don't think so, but there is definitely a spirit in the room. It's freezing in here and it touched me."

Dean grabbed the knob and turned it but the door remained shut even though the latch was clear.

"Stand back," Dean said. He backed up a bit, turned the knob, and rammed into the door. The door opened with a slam. Dean entered the room and noticed how cold it was. Sam was right, something was in the room.

The brothers stood and waited for something to happen but nothing did. After a minute the chilly air began to dissipate and the room returned to a normal temperature. What ever had been there was now gone.

"Tell me everything that happened," Dean said.

"I was in bed reading. The room got cold, really cold. I went to the door. I was going to see if the whole house was that cold or just my room. Then the door wouldn't open. I called out to it to see if it would try to communicate. Then it touched my shoulder and said the words, 'get out.' That's when I called you."

"I'll be back." Dean went to his room and grabbed his walkman. He made a circle around Sam's room and sure enough he was getting a reading. Something had most definitely been in Sam's room.

"Well, at least we know there is an honest to god ghost here and not just a creation of someone's imagination. I doubt we'll hear from it anymore tonight."

"I guess we may as well go back to bed," Sam said.

"Yeah, all right. Call me if you need anything." Dean left the room but made a point of leaving both of their doors open.

Sam turned out his light and got back into bed. Suddenly the friendly and cozy bedroom didn't seem as friendly and cozy. With the lights off, the wind howling, and the trace of ozone still present the room was down right scary. Then there was the fact that Sam hadn't been alone at night in ages. His whole life he had shared a room with Dean. In college he was alone for like a year and then he lived with Jess for the next three. Even during the past six months he hadn't been alone.

The crazy thought of going into Dean's room crossed his mind, and he suddenly understood why Dean chose a room with two beds in it. Dean knew Sam would end up in there. Well, he was 22 years old. He didn't need to share a room with someone. Everything would be fine once he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

He snuggled down in his bed, but sleep came hours later when his body finally gave in to exhaustion.

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_Sam was running and running through the snow. He looked around but he was alone. All alone. Where was his father? Where was mother? Where was his big brother? Why was no one coming for him? He continued to run and call their names. _

_"Mom!__ Dad," cried. As he called his mind seemed to fight against him. He didn't have a mom. Why was he yelling for her? "Tom...Tom, help me!" No, his brother's name wasn't Tom, it was Dean. "Dean...Dean!" He was so confused and so cold. He didn't want to die out here. Mom had told him that if he got lost outside he could die of the cold. Tears started to roll down his cheeks and his body began to shiver both from the cold and from fear._

"Sammy! Sammy, wake up," a strong and determined voice ordered.

Sam recognized the voice. It was the one that had been there for him almost his entire life. He latched on to it and suddenly the cold disappeared and he wasn't alone, but he was still trembling and the tears still came.

"Sammy, come on, snap out of it," Dean repeated. He didn't know what to think. He had heard Sam mumbling in his sleep and then suddenly he was screaming Dean's name. For the second time that night Dean ran into Sam's room. He was shocked at what he found. Sam's body was jerking and shaking and he was crying like a small child. Dean watched as Sam finally stopped shaking and his cries became small sniffles. "Sam, can you hear me?"

"Dean? Dean what's happening?" Sam was very confused and he wiped the moisture from his eyes.

"You were dreaming but it was more than that. I think you just got visited by a spirit again."

"I was outside," Sam said as he began to remember. "I was running through the snow looking for my family. Tom, I had a brother named Tom. I was afraid I was going to freeze to death outside but I didn't know how to get home."

"How old were you in the dream?"

"I don't know. I never saw myself. I must have been young though because I was terrified."

Sam sat up in his bed and ran a hand through his hair. He was surprised to find himself covered in a cold sweat.

"All right, that's it," Dean announced.

"What's it?" Sam asked.

"Get up. You're coming in my room."

"Dean, I don't need to sleep with my big brother."

"I know, but something in this place has taken a liking to you. You've been visited twice in one night, not to mention the fact that I'm getting tired of running across the hall. Now get up and let's go."

"He was the baby brother," Sam suddenly blurted.

"Who? Tom?"

"No, me. I mean, in the dream, I was the baby brother. That's why I was looking for Tom. He was supposed to be looking out for me."

"That sounds familiar," Dean mumbled.

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Now come on, let's go. It's cold and I'm tired and the longer I have to stand here waiting for you to move the less sleep we are going to get."

Sam gave up. Truth be told he didn't want to stay in this room alone anymore anyway, but somehow he couldn't stop him self from giving Dean a hard time. He got up and followed Dean.

Dean dug around in his bag and pulled out a box of salt. It only took him a second to put a circle of salt around each bed. Hopefully that would stop any more spirits from invading their unconscious minds while they slept.

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The next morning while Dean was getting dressed he was listening to the radio in their bedroom. The weather man was forecasting a substantial snow fall for Monday. Since today was Friday that left them very little time to get their research and preparations done before they became trapped here.

Dean hated to admit it but he was beginning to have second thoughts about this job. It wasn't that he was afraid of the ghosts. It didn't even bother him that much that Sam had been visited twice last night. They weren't in any danger...yet. What worried him was what Sam had said last night. They just might get stuck out here for a very long time, even after they sent the spirits packing. Dean wasn't used to being cooped up. He was an easy come easy go kind of guy. He wasn't afraid of loneliness. He knew that feeling well. No, it really was just the aspect of not being able to come and go as he pleased.

Still, he had chosen this job for a reason...Sammy. The past few months had been a lot for his sensitive baby brother to deal with. Too much had happened too fast; Jess dying, his leaving college, dad disappearing, that damn shape shifter, the nightmares, and then the horseman almost killed him. Dean had figured a simple haunting would be a piece of cake. Plus Sam would like the two of them earning honest money and having the chance to stay in one place for a little while.

Dean would just have to find a way to deal with being stuck here. It wasn't like it was a bad place. The house was really cool, and he even liked the lighthouse. It would just be strange to not be able to climb into his car and drive when the urge hit him. Still, he was tough. He would be just fine. He was a Winchester after all.

"Hey Dean!" Sam called happily from the bottom of the stairs.

"What?"

"Come here! Hurry!"

Dean grabbed his boots and jogged down the stairs. He found Sam standing at the front door.

"Shh," Sam held a finger to his lips and motioned for Dean to follow. Dean saw that he had a wilted looking carrot in his hand. The front door was open and Dean watched as Sam quietly and smoothly walked out of the house and towards two deer that were standing not more than twenty feet from them.

"Hey girl," Sam said calmly. "You hungry?" He moved slowly so as not to frighten them. Little by little he moved closer. Finally he stopped and let the doe make the final move. After a moment's hesitation the doe finally decided she wanted the carrot enough to risk it or that Sam wasn't a threat after all. It walked up to Sam and began to eat the carrot from his hand. Sam ran his hand down her back and then released the carrot. Both deer took off through the woods.

"Okay, that was impressive," Dean said.

"I've never done that before," Sam said. "Dad always made me shot them or bow hunt them. I always hated killing them though."

"But we always ate anything we killed," Dean pointed out. "We never killed anything just for the fun of it...unless it was something evil."

"I know, I just...whatever," he finally said with a shrug. The bottom line was Dean would never truly understand him. He knew Dean loved him like a brother should, he knew Dean liked having him around, and he even did things once in a while to make him happy, but still, Dean didn't understand why Sam liked the things he liked or did the things he did. Dean had never wanted to be normal.

"So I take it you like this place?" Dean asked.

"It's nice," Sam replied. "We should probably get going though. We need to hit the market, the library, and the museum. With this being a small town and tourist season is over, everything will probably be closing down for the day at five o'clock."

"You're right. I figured we would split up. I'll take the museum, you take the library. That'll save some time."

"Good idea."

As the two climbed into the car Dean knew that he had made the right decision to come here. This place would be like a vacation for Sam.

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Beaver Island Public Library wasn't very impressive. It was a house that had been converted into a library. Like many small town libraries it's focus was on entertainment. There was a section in the library that provided resources for kids to do your basic book report or write an essay on Mars, but little else.

"Hi," Sam said to the old lady sitting behind the desk. I'm curious about the lighthouse."

"I'm sure you are since you're currently living there."

"How did you know that?"

"Are you kidding," the little old woman exclaimed. "Everyone knows about you and your brother coming here to take the light keepers position. Personally I think you two are very brave. I wouldn't even want to step foot in there. It's haunted you know?"

"Really?" Sam asked. "Who's haunting it?"

"There could be any number of ghosts in that house. At least seven men have died in that house, others have gone insane, and several even killed their wives and families. I think that place is truly evil." As she said all this there was a gleam of excitement in her eyes. She might have been afraid of the old place but she wasn't above gossiping about it.

"Do you know the name of the first once to die there?" he asked.

"No, I'm afraid not," she replied. "For the first half of the 1900's they didn't really keep many records about what happened there other than deeds, titles, and a master list of the keepers who were employed there."

"Do you think I could see that stuff?"

"What ever for?" she asked.

"Just…curiosity," Sam shrugged.

"Very well." She showed Sam to a back room and then left. A few minutes later she returned with a card board box.

"This is everything we've got."

"Thank you. I'm sorry, I never got you name."

"I'm Rose Daily. I've been running the library here for the past twenty years."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Sam."

"Yes, I heard that you had the brown hair. Your brother is a blond. He's Dean, right?"

"Yes," Sam chuckled. Finally Ms. Daily left when another person entered the library.

Sam looked through the old box she had brought him. As usual it was covered in dust and smelled of age and time. He sat there for an hour and everything he look through made for pretty dry reading. There was a list of the keepers. He found the day the light house was commissioned and who arranged for it, and he found out about several keepers dying while at the place, but no other details were provided.

Finally he began to search the card catalog since this place didn't have computers. He needed some books on local lore and ghost stories passed down through oral histories. Bingo, he managed to find four of them. He quickly applied for a library card and checked the books out along with some others for reading when he had nothing to do. It was time to head over to the museum and see what Dean had found.


	3. Running Errands

Chapter 3: Running Errands

Sam walked down the street enjoying the feel of the brisk air on his face. The air here smelled so fresh. The sun was shining bright and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. He was halfway to the museum when he walked past the arcade.

Just out of curiosity he turned his head and looked inside. Sam was shocked to see Dean in there playing a video game! Here he had been in the library for the past hour and something, and Dean was shooting space invaders or something just as stupid.

Sam marched into the arcade and stood behind Dean waiting for him to turn around and notice him. After a full two minutes went by Sam finally smacked Dean upside the back of his head.

"What the hell…oh, hi Sam," Dean said sheepishly.

"Hi, Sam? Are you shitting me? I've been looking through musty smelly books and documents and you're here popping quarters into a game."

"It's not just any game," Dean defended. "Don't you recognize this?"

Sam looked at the vintage machine and saw Centipede written across the top. Sam did remember the game. He and Dean used to play it all the time one summer when they were little. Dad had gone on a hunt and left them behind with an aunt who was now long since dead. At the corner of her street was an old time penny candy store with several video games in it. One of them had been Centipede. Every day for two months Sam and Dean would scour the town looking for pop cans and bottles to turn in for quarters so they could play. Sam couldn't help but smile at the fond memory, but still, they had work to do.

"Okay, I'm glad you got to take a trip down memory lane, but need I remind you that we have work to do, and time is short."

"I know, I know," Dean said. "Okay, let's go to the museum." He actually pouted a little as he left the arcade.

They walked the rest of the way to the Nautical Museum and went inside. The place was deserted. The two walked around reading the exhibits. The information provided was very factual and concise, but nothing of what they were looking for.

"Hello, may I help you?"

Sam and Dean saw a man in his mid-fifties standing there. He was tall and well built for his age with salt and pepper hair.

"Hi, I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean."

"Hello," Dean nodded.

"Hi, I'm Jonas Peele. So you two are the new light house keepers George hired."

"Yes, we are," Sam answered.

"How do you like it there?"

"It's really nice," Dean said. "A little far from civilization, but otherwise it's a great place."

"How well did you know the last keeper?" Sam asked.

"Why?"

"Well, I was just wondering why he left his job?"

"That's a question no one can answer," Jonas told them. "No one knows what happened to John."

"What do you think happened?" Dean asked.

"Why are you asking?" Jonas inquired.

"Well," Sam started, "Um…"

"You saw one of the ghosts last night, didn't you?" Jonas asked knowingly. "Was it the boy or the man? Or did you see the other one?"

"I'm not sure," Sam said. "You seem awfully at ease about all this. If I met two strangers claiming to see ghosts I would be a little worried."

"Are you kidding? Everyone here knows about the ghosts. Hell, half of our summer profits are made by luring tourists out here to come and visit the haunted lighthouse."

"So, who are these ghosts?" Dean asked. "Who did they used to be?"

"Well that's up for debate. There have been a lot of people to die out there, especially back in the day. Today if there is an emergency out there we can get a Sno-Cat out there, plus the snow plow does get out there eventually. In the old days the people caring for the light house truly were cut off from the rest of the town. It can be dangerous out there. The cliffs and rocks get ice covered and slippery, one can get lost and freeze to death, some people in the past ran out of food and starved to death, and some even lost their mind from the loneliness and took matters into their own hands."

"You mentioned a man, a boy, and the other. What's the other?"

"Oh, that's the mean one. For the most part the boy and the man seem to be harmless, but the other one is different. No one really knows if it's a man or a woman, but it's angry. Every now and then it throws things, knocks a picture off the wall, and basically does things to scare people."

"Has it ever killed anyone?" Sam asked.

"I highly doubt that," Jonas said with a laugh. "I mean, there has been some unexplainable things happen out there, but I think most of the problems are purely human and not supernatural in nature."

"What about the people who disappeared? This is an island. How do you just walk away and have no one notice? At the very least you would have to take the ferry to leave the island. Surely someone would see you," Dean pointed out.

"True, but then there are lots of boats on this island. John could have gotten a ride from someone passing by."

"Did he pick up his last paycheck?" Sam asked.

"Excuse me?"

"His last paycheck," Sam repeated. "If you're going to quit and take off, you'd want to have as much money as you possibly could."

"I don't know if he collected his last check or not. I'm sure the sheriff looked into it, though."

"Do you have a list of past keepers and the names of their families?" Dean asked. "We're really interested in the old place since we moved in and kind of want to learn more about the local lore and history."

"I have a list of the keepers but not their families. There're only a couple of them where we have information about their families. One would be Charles Butler from 1909. His wife went out for a walk and got lost when a blizzard hit. She froze to death. Charles was so broken hearted he hanged himself from the lighthouse railings. Another would be Michael Fritz. He had a wife, Magdelena, and two sons, Thomas and Daniel."

"Thomas?" Sam asked right away. "When was Michael Fritz the keeper?"

"Back in 1943 if I remember correctly. It was during the second war. It was a tragic thing that happened to that family."

"What?" Dean asked.

"Well, it seems Michael was one of the ones that couldn't handle the seclusion. He had a break down they suspected. He murdered his wife with a fireplace poker. He crushed her skull beyond all recognition. Then he shot himself in the head."

"What happened to the boys?" Sam asked.

"No one knows. They were never seen again. Some people think he drowned them in the lake. During winter that water is cold, really cold. Bodies sink to the bottom under those circumstances."

"But wouldn't they float back up come spring?" Dean asked.

"After months of being eaten on by the fish, maybe not, and if they did wash up somewhere, it wasn't here on the island. Maybe they turned up on the mainland."

"Well, thanks for all your help," Sam said.

"No problem. Listen, you two are welcome to come to church services tomorrow. Afterwards there'll be a pot luck luncheon. The women around here are pretty good cooks, let me tell ya."

"Thanks," Dean said. "Maybe we'll take you up on that."

"Great. Well, goodbye."

Dean and Sam left the museum and got in the car. It was time to go to the market which was only four blocks over.

The market was actually a pretty large place and they sold a bit of everything. Sam grabbed books, a few CD's, and a large book of cross word puzzles. Dean made sure to get extra pairs of gloves and hats for them

"Let's split up and get the groceries," Dean said. "I'll start on the right and you start on the left and we'll meet in the middle."

"Okay," Sam said.

Dean walked down the isle and started putting items in the cart at random. Sam started in the produce department. He grabbed a large bag of potatoes, onions, carrots, and celery. Then he grabbed two gallons of milk after checking the dates and tossed in a variety of cheeses.

It was awesome to be actually shopping for real food. He had used to do this with Jess. About every two weeks the two of them would go to the grocery store and Jess would make a point of selecting everything so carefully. At first he teased her but then he came to appreciate it. In the meat department he grabbed pack after pack of ground beef, ground turkey, and pork chops. Then he grabbed several packs of boneless, skinless chicken. It was funny, he had killed some of the most horrible beasts ever known to hell, but he refused to de-bone and skin a chicken! Now that was truly revolting.

He looked up when he saw his brother driving his cart wildly towards him. He couldn't believe Dean had filled a shopping cart that fast.

"Dude, you done yet?"

"Dean, what is all that?" Sam stared at the cart in disbelief. Dean had put about sixty cans of chili, beef stew, ravioli, beans, Vienna sausages, and Spam in his cart. On top of the can food was Oreos, Chips Ahoy, several boxes of Little Debbie cakes, and two boxes of Twinkies. Under the cart were several cases of coke and even a couple of packs of beer.

"It's called food," Dean replied. "Four years of college and you can't read a label."

"You are honestly planning on living on that for the next several weeks?"

"Well not just this stuff. I figured we'd get some frozen pizzas and some burritos to go to."

"You need help, you know that."

Dean looked in Sam's cart and did a double take. He picked up a package of hamburger and looked at Sam.

"Why are you buying this?"

"Because we are going to need to eat some meat every once in a while," Sam replied sarcastically.

"Bro, that's what the Spam and corned beef hash is for. Seriously, do you even know what to do with this stuff?" Dean asked.

"I believe it's perfectly acceptable to fry it in a pan."

Dean looked at him like he was from another planet. "And you actually know how to do this?"

"It's not that hard. Jess taught me."

"Your woman made you do the cooking?" Dean asked with a smirk.

"No she didn't. It's just that she had late night classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays so it was my job to make dinner on those nights. Trust me, women will only eat so many frozen pizzas before they take it upon themselves to teach you a few cooking skills. It turned out to be really easy."

Dean just shook his head. "Whatever. Just grab what you need and let's go."

"I'm going to need a little more time," Sam said. "I need to make sure I get everything for something I'm planning."

"What?" Dean asked.

"Nothing, it's a surprise. Now go away and leave me alone."

Dean's idea of going away was to follow Sam through out the store always remaining about six feet behind. Every now and then he would let out a long sigh signaling that he was really bored. Sam chose to ignore him and make sure he got everything he needed on his mental list: a small turkey, a box of stuffing, two cans of cranberry sauce, two jars of gravy, canned corn, peas, and green beans, several tubes of crescent rolls and even a frozen pumpkin pie and an apple cobbler pie.

He was pretty sure Dean had never had a traditional Thanksgiving dinner, at least not since mom died. He and Jess had celebrated the holiday for three straight years and he had helped her prepare the meal every time. It would be a ton of work but he knew he could do it. He had to make sure to get everything since this would probably be their one and only trip before the holiday, which was in about a week and a half.

"Dude, are you almost done yet?"

"Hold on, I just need a few more things. We need to get two dozen eggs, butter, and we should probably get one more gallon of milk."

"Why? We'll never be able to drink all of this before it spoils," Dean grumbled. Shopping with Dad had _never_ taken this long.

"If you put it in the freezer it'll last for a month."

"Any you know this because…?"

"Once when Jess and I went on a trip she did it."

"Oh for crying out loud," Dean groaned. "Just grab it and let's go!"

Finally they got to the soap isle and Sam grabbed two bottles of detergent and two fabric softeners and announced that he was finally finished.

Ringing up their items took forever and earned Dean several strange looks from the cashier as she examined the items in his cart. The total came to $354, so Dean tossed in the extra $54 from his wallet and they pushed the two carts out to the car and loaded it up.

"All I can say is, if you think I'm going to be doing more than just opening a can and microwaving it you better think again. I don't cook."

"Don't worry; I'm not going to make you cook. Honestly, you're making such a big deal out of this."

"Well, just know that you and I will never do the grocery shopping together anymore more. A person would think you were the Bobby Flay or something."

"You watch cooking shows?" Sam asked.

Dean didn't answer, he just turned on the radio and drove them back home with the song 'Bad to the Bone' vibrating the windows.


	4. More Close Encounters

Chapter 4: More Close Encounters

**Author's notes**: I just wanted to say thanks to all of my reviewers. I'm glad that everyone seems really happy with how this is turning out. I love the show and I love these guys. It's fun to write the horror but to then turn around and write a scene with our two boys being total smart asses, and THEN turn around a write a scene that's totally chick flick. What can I say, Dean and Sam are perfect! Now if I could just meet them and find a state that let's a single and desperate woman marry two gorgeous studs at once life would be perfect.

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Back at the house Sam put all of the groceries away, which ended up being a ton of work since there were so many of them. Dean had gone to the shed to check out the snow mobiles. He wanted to make sure they were working properly and gas them up.

Sam had a feeling Dean would be using them a lot. He knew Dean would hate being cooped up here, but at least the snow mobile would give him so mobility.

He figured he might as well get started on dinner. He wanted to prove to his brother that cooking wasn't that hard, and that yes, he actually knew how to do it. He decided on something easy, spaghetti and garlic toast.

As he cooked he thought about all they had learn today. He was pretty sure that Daniel was the ghost who visited him last night in his dreams. He was trying to show Sam something, but he didn't understand yet. Did Daniel die that day lost in the woods? Did he ever find Tom? How did he get lost in the first place? Was he running from something? Sam needed a lot more information.

He wasn't too worried about two of the ghosts. The boy was probably Daniel. The man could be the one who hanged himself, Charles Butler, or maybe even Michael Fritz. Or it could be none of them. The one that worried him was the 'other' one. He had a feeling that he was visited by that one last night too, when he was told to get out. Then again, maybe it was the man who was warning them to get out, to protect them or something. Yep, he definitely needed a lot more information. After dinner he would start reading some of the books he had checked out today on local lore. Maybe he could find some answers in there.

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Dean walked into the shed and extended his hands in thanks. "Oh, yes!" he exclaimed. He rushed to the two snow mobiles and ran his hands over them appreciatively. They were a sight of beauty. They held the promise of freedom. Let the snow come. Maybe he couldn't drive his baby, but he wasn't trapped. Hell, he and Sam could easily get back and forth to town on these things during good weather.

He lifted up the seats and found storage compartments and everything on them. He had a seat on the royal blue one and gripped the handle bars like a kid in a candy shop. He spotted the keys handing on the wall of the shed and hopped off long enough to retrieve it. Once back on, he started the engine and revved it loudly.

"Sweet!" As long as he had these babies right here life would be good. He would have a blast riding these things. He turned off the engine to save the gas and then put the key back on its hook. He checked the gas reserves and saw that they had more than enough for the entire winter if need be.

He had no intentions of staying here that long. A couple of weeks, three at the most, should be enough to get the job done and head out. He'd get to kick some spooks asses, Sam would get to play house and rest up a bit, and then they'd be back on the road looking for Dad.

He missed his father. It was hard with the old man just disappearing. Was he dead? Was he in jail? Had he been captured by something? Was he in hiding from something? Or, had he just got tired of it all and walked out on Dean? In his heart he knew it wasn't the last one, but still, where was he? Why didn't he call? Dean never realized how much he had relied on his father. Dad always made the really big decisions. Dad chose the jobs. Dad always knew what to do in any situation, and Dean had been happy to let him make those decisions.

Now all of a sudden he had been thrust into that roll. Every day Sam looked to him to decide the what, when, where, and why. Not that Sam didn't do anything, mind you. He was awesome at research. That was one of the things Dean missed most about Sam when he went to college. It was definitely helpful having a bookworm in the family.

Plus, Sam was good to have in a battle. The kid could fight…not as good as Dean could…but he could usually hold his own in most situations. _Yeah, that's why that shape shifter almost rang his pretty little neck and the Hookman and the Horseman sliced him open._ Dean froze. He couldn't believe he'd just thought that. Sam had done his best during those fights. _Still, his best hadn't been good enough. The kid was seconds away from dying each time._ Dean put his hand to his head and literally shook it back and forth, trying to shake the cruel thoughts out of there.

He took several steps back away from the snow mobile and tried to figure out what he was feeling. _You've saved his life how many times, and the minute you find Dad he's going to leave again. Ungrateful little shit._

Suddenly Dean realized what was happening. These weren't his thoughts. Something was trying to enter his mind. He hurried out side, away from the shed.

"Get out of my head!" he shouted. "I won't believe your lies." He stood his ground and waited to see if his mind would be assaulted once more but whatever had just happened seemed to be over now. Dean took a deep breath and wiped his face with his hand. Well that had certainly been intense. Suddenly he thought about Sam. Was his brother also having his head messed with?

Dean ran to the house, throwing open the front door. He searched through the house frantically.

"Sam! Sam!"

"In the kitchen," Sam's voice called.

Dean took another shaky breath and put on his mask of composure before entering the kitchen.

"What's up?" Sam asked as he dumped a box of noodles into boiling water.

"Uh, I just wanted to let you know that the snow mobiles are in perfect running order."

"That's good," Sam said. "I can't wait to take them out for a ride. It should be fun."

"Yeah," Dean replied. "So, everything okay in here?"

Sam looked at him strange. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Uh, no reason. I just wanted to make sure that, you know, you don't burn the place down or anything," Dean replied.

Sam just rolled his eyes and turned back to his pot. "I'm not going to burn the place down. I was thinking after dinner we might go for a hike, do a little exploring."

"Sure, that sounds good."

"Then later I'll start reading. I checked out a bunch of books on local lore. There's bound to be some ghost stories in there."

"I'll help with that," Dean said.

"Great. Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes."

"Can I help?" Dean asked.

Once again Sam stared at him. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with my real brother?"

"Ha, ha."

"Really…Mr. I Don't Cook is offering to help."

"Don't be an asshole. I just thought you might need a hand," Dean grumbled, trying to remember why he had come in this room in the first place. Oh yeah, to check on Sam. _His whole life had been spent watching out for Sam, and now the rest of his life would be a continuation of the same._

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pick on you. If you really want to help you can grab some dishes and silverware and set the table."

"We really should have thought about buying some paper plates and cups while at the market. Washing dishes is going to be a pain in the ass."

"Maybe we can make one more trip to the market on Monday before the storm hits," Sam offered.

"Yeah, maybe." Dean searched through the cabinets to find plates and glasses and then rummaged through the drawers for some forks. He had to admit that Sam's cooking sure smelled good.

Sam dished out generous servings of the pasta and meat sauce and then put two slices of garlic toast on each plate. The two sat down to eat. Sam waited anxiously for Dean to say something. Dean knew he was waiting for a compliment or a complaint and he felt like messing with him so he sat there and said nothing. After each bite Sam would watch him for a reaction until finally when Dean's plate was halfway gone Sam just finally came out and asked him.

"Well, do you like it?"

"I'm eating it aren't I," Dean smirked.

"Yeah, well from you that isn't necessarily a compliment. I'm sure if I put ketchup on it and stuck it between two buns I could probably get you to eat dog poop."

Dean actually choked on his food when he started laughing. "Actually, when you think of some of the diners I've eaten at I think I may have already have had that meal, several times in fact." He took a long drink from his can of Coke before continuing.

"The food is good, Sammy. Thanks for cooking."

"You're welcome."

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Dean and Sam hiked through the woods surrounding the lighthouse. There were several trails that wound their way around the property, obviously put there for summer tourists. Today the paths were abandoned except for them. The ground was soft but not too muddy and a thick layer of leaves covered the dirt paths that crunched as they walked. Soon their cheeks and noses were rosy from the cold air.

"Let's head down towards the water," Sam suggested.

"Sure." Dean took the left fork in the path which would lead to the water's edge. After a bit the trees gave way to a small spit of sandy beach. Looking up you could see the lighthouse over head on the side of the cliff, and looking straight ahead there was another building.

"What's that?" Sam asked.

"I think this is the fog horn. See the loud speakers facing towards the water."

"I wonder why they didn't just attach it to the light house."

"Maybe," Dean replied, "so the people living in the lighthouse wouldn't have their eardrums blasted out."

"Ah! Good thinking. Wow, it's going to be a challenge to fall asleep the first time we have to run this thing all night."

"I don't think it'll be that loud for us. We're a good distance away, plus the speakers point out. We can always test them later tonight."

Sam walked away from the fog horn and closer to the water. He picked up a rock and skipped it perfectly across the surface. Dean came to join him the two skipped rocks for several minutes.

"I still remember the day I taught you how to do this," Dean said. "You were so frustrated at first. You stomped you foot and said that skipping rocks was stupid."

"That's cause all my rocks kept sinking to the bottom," Sam laughed. "My whole life you always learned how to do everything first. Ride a bike, whistle, skip rocks, I remember thinking that I wanted to figure out just one thing before you did."

"Maybe that's why you took to school so much. You knew I hated it," Dean chuckled.

"Nah, I liked school because no one at school knew what we did after dismissal. In school we were just like everyone else."

"Sam, I don't want to talk about this again."

"About what?"

"About how you and I are freaks. I know you think our childhood sucked, but you're 22, let it go already."

"I wasn't about to have that conversation," Sam retorted. "You're the one that started talking about the past." He threw his last rock and turned to walk away.

"Sam! I'm sorry," Dean sighed. "It's just…sometimes you make it sound like we were raised by the devil himself. Everything Dad ever did he did out of love. All he ever wanted was for us to be safe and know how to take care of ourselves."

"I know that," Sam snapped, and then more softly he added, "really, I do."

"Can you honestly say it was all bad?" Dean asked. "Even the time you and I spent together?"

Suddenly Sam turned to look at Dean. "No, god no! I turned my back on hunting, but I never regretted having you for a brother. You were the best brother…well…most of the time," he smirked.

"Of course I was the best brother," Dean said with that shit eatin' grin plastered on his face. "I deserve a medal for putting up with you all these years."

"I wouldn't go tooting your horn too loudly. I also remember the time you lost me in the middle of a carnival because you were too busy chasing after several girls."

"Hey, I told you to stay put. You're the one that had to go and wander off."

"You told me to stay put and then never came back. I was nine. What did you think I would do? I went to look for you."

"Man, dad busted my ass for that one. I went back to get you after I got their phone numbers and you were gone. I was searching all over for you and after an hour I finally gave up and went to get Dad. At first he was too busy being scared to nail me, but once the cops called several hours later and said you were at the station that was it. That was one of the worst spankings I ever got. Dad must have taken his belt to my backside at least twenty times."

"I remember. I think I cried just as loudly as you did and I never even got hit. I felt so bad for you."

"Yeah, but I never held it against the old man. I shouldn't have left you."

"You were a kid. You made a mistake. Besides, it all turned out alright in the end."

"Put it this way, I never lost you ever again," Dean said proudly, and he never would. The two pitched several more stones in silence, each lost to their own thoughts.

Sam took a few more steps towards the water and gazed at the rippled surface. It was so peaceful looking and yet he knew the water was freezing cold. Water that cold could cause a person to go into hypothermia in just a few minutes.

"You planning on going for a swim?" Dean asked, as if plucking the thought right out of his mind.

"Definitely not. That water's what? Forty degrees? I'll pass on joining the Polar Bear Club this time around."

Two large barges began their slow journey past them moving south. Sam wondered what cargo they were carrying. The sun was beginning to set and as he looked out across the water Sam could see a fog slowly rolling in towards land. It was still pretty far out but it was coming.

"Looks like we get to test the fog horn tonight."

"What?" Dean looked out to where Sam was gazing and also saw the fog. "We should start heading back. It's getting dark and we're going to need to get the light house up and running."

They started walking back quickly. Suddenly the sound of someone walking on leaves came from another direction, causing both of them to stop and look.

"Hello?" Dean called. "Is someone there?"

No one answered but Dean and Sam both had the feeling they weren't alone. The sound continued to move past them towards the water. Then Dean saw it. A woman was walking towards the water. She wore a long dress of navy blue that came all the way to her ankles and her black hair was pulled into a loose bun on top of her head.

Dean was about to go after her but Sam grabbed his arm. "Dean, she's not real."

Dean did a double take and realized that with some effort you could see through her. She was a ghost. The woman began to walk out into the water never turning to look back at the land. After a minute she had walked out all the way to her neck and then finally her head disappeared beneath the surface.

"Just how many ghosts are haunting this place?" Dean asked.

"At least four so far."

"Christ, we're going to have to dig up half the cemetery at this rate," Dean complained. Digging up graves was hard back breaking work.

"I have a feeling we're going to have to find a different approach to this than salting and burning remains."

"And what approach would that be exactly?"

"I wish I knew," Sam replied.


	5. Potluck

Chapter 5: Potluck

Author's Notes: Please excuse any typos or errors in this chapter. I have the worst eye infection I've ever had and I'm half blind at the moment I swear. So editing for this chapter is going to be iffy at best, but I know so many of you are waiting for the update that I figured I would post anyway as opposed to making you wait until I can see again.

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Dean looked out through the windows of the light house and was amazed to see nothing, nothing but an empty grayness that absorbed all light and color. He had driven through fog before, but he had never seen anything like this. The fog was so thick that it completely blocked out the world outside. One would almost think it was a solid mass…impenetrable.

His duties were done for the night. The light was on and rotating and down on the beach he could just barely hear the fog horn blaring out across the lake warning the ships of the coast.

Dean really liked being up here, but tonight the fog made it slightly claustrophobic so he figured he should go and help Sam with the research like he had said he would. He walked down the metal stairs back into the house. He made a point of checking the doors and locks before heading upstairs.

Dean walked into their room and smiled. Sam was sound asleep in bed with a book lying open, face down, on his chest rising and falling with his every breath. It was a position he had found Sam in often when he was younger. He quietly picked up the book and dog-eared the corner before closing it and setting it on the night stand.

He took a moment to look at Sam's neck. He was no longer wearing a bandage over the wound and it was healing nicely. Tomorrow or the next day he would probably be able to remove Sam's stitches from his neck and his arm. He turned out the light and changed into his bed clothes in the dark.

Dean crawled into bed and closed his eyes. He heard the toilet flush and looked at Sam's bed. Sam was still there and sleeping soundly. So who the hell was using the bathroom? He got out of bed and walked down the hall. He flipped on the lights to find an empty bathroom but the toilet was still filling it tank with water.

"Great, we have ghosts who use the toilet," he said to himself. "Oh well, at least they flush." He turned back to his room. "No wonder the previous caretakers cracked up. This place is a loony bin." Of course he didn't doubt for a minute the reason he and Sam were experiencing so much phenomena so quickly was because they were so open-minded about all of it. Nonbelievers had a natural resistance to ghostly activities and it took the spirit longer to break though and make them selves known.

He climbed into bed and closed his eyes for the night.

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_Once more Sam was running through the snow calling for his brother Tom. He ran through the trees ignoring the pain that came when occasionally a branch would scratch at his face. He needed to find Tom. He had to tell him about their mother and the horrible thing he had seen._

"_Mommy…oh mommy," he cried. She was dead. Her blood had been everywhere. He didn't know where his father was, or Tom. He had to find them._

_He continued to run until he broke through the trees. He was standing on the beach. The fog horn was on. He hated that thing. It was so loud and frightening. He dropped to his knees to catch his breath. He was so tired and his chest ached from breathing the icy air so deeply for so long._

_A hand on his shoulder made him jump and scream. He looked up to see his brother. Tom had found him. Everything would be okay now. He stood up and wrapped his arms around Tom's waist. Tom was big. He was older. He would know what to do._

"_Tom, mommy's dead. Someone killed her."_

"_I know."_

"_I can't find father."_

"_Don't worry, we will. Come with me. I'll take care of you. I'll take care of everything."_

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"Sam! Wake up!"

Sam opened his eyes and then closed them against the bright morning sunlight.

"Why did you wake me up?" Sam grumbled. He had a feeling he was about to learn something important if he had just had the chance to finish. "I was so close."

"So close to what?"

"To learning what happened in 1942."

"Sammy, you aren't making any sense right now."

"I was dreaming, but it wasn't a dream. It was a memory."

"That's not possible. The beds are surrounded by salt. There's no way a ghost should be able to get to us while we sleep." Dean was putting on his white shirt and tucking it into his pants.

"It wasn't a ghost or a visitation. It was more like…like a vision."

Those words stopped Dean cold. "A vision?"

"Yeah…a vision."

"And since when did you start having visions?"

Sam didn't reply. He didn't want to. He hoped Dean would drop the subject but his brother was staring at him and waiting for a response.

"Sometimes…sometimes I see stuff. Not when I'm awake, but when I'm asleep. Sometimes it's about the past, sometimes it's the future."

"You want me to believe that you're psychic?" Dean asked.

"No, I'm not psychic. I can't predict the lottery numbers and I don't know what's going to happen in the next five minutes. All I'm saying is that sometimes I have dreams, and sometimes they come true."

Dean released a deep sigh. And just when he thought they couldn't possibly be any freakier than they already were, a new bombshell drops.

"Sam, I don't know what to say to this."

"You don't have to say anything, just don't call me crazy."

"Oh, you're definitely crazy, but that was true before I knew you had visions."

Sam smile and threw his pillow at Dean's head. Dean caught the pillow easily enough and tossed it back.

"You really do need to get up…and put on your good shirt."

"Why?"

"Because we have to go to church."

Sam laughed. "You're funny."

"I'm serious," Dean replied. "All of the community will be there. It'll be a good chance for us to do a little research, meet the locals, and even get some free food."

"Food?"

"Yeah, bro. Remember the potluck? That's today. So come on, hurry up."

"Dean, we have a house full of food. We don't have to find an excuse to eat other people's food today."

"True, but I'm about to be stuck looking at your ugly face and nothing but your ugly face for a while. So, get ready so we can go hang with the natives."

Sam went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. He never thought he would see the day when Dean would want to go to church, even if he did hope to score some free food. Then Sam realized what it was. The storm was coming tomorrow. This would be Dean's last chance to socialize and flirt for a while. A smile crossed his face as he shampooed his hair. Dean would never change, and he was grateful for that.

00000000

They arrived at the church only about fifteen minutes late and quickly went inside and sat in the last row. Together they suffered through the last thirty minutes of the sermon before the reverend finally gave his final blessing and people began to stand and head for the doors. Sam and Dean sat there and watched the people go by. Dean was checking out all the ladies trying to find the ones that were single and cute. Unfortunately there wasn't that many. Most of the women were already married, and the ones that were left were slim pickings at best.

"Hello, there."

Sam and Dean turned to see who was greeting them and found that Jonas from the museum was there with his wife and kids.

"I'm glad you two decided to come."

"Thank you for inviting us," Sam replied.

"This is my wife, Meredith."

"How do you do?" Dean said, shaking her hand.

"Fine, thank you. Well, you two better come along. The potluck is in the church basement since it's so cold outside."

Sam and Dean followed them down a flight of metal steps into a large open room with white walls and a battleship gray painted floor. Long eight by two foot tables had been set out with folding chairs and white table clothes. A large group of women were busy setting up all the dishes they had prepared while the men stood to one side and talked and the little kids ran around without a care in the world.

Sam always felt out of place when they did stuff like this. He envied his brothers ability to walk in a room and act like he'd known the people there all his life. Sam was awkward until he finally got to meet a few people and then start a conversation.

Two girls in their early twenties approached them. They were blond and blue eyed, but they were both rather homely looking. One had on too much makeup and the other had none. Both girls wore floral skirts that were probably hand made with bulky turtle neck sweaters on top.

"Hi there," the one with too much makeup said. "I'm Jenny and this is my sister Louise."

"Hi, I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean. It's nice to meet you."

"I'd say the pleasure is all ours," Jenny gushed. She moved up real close to Sam and entwined her arm in his. "My you're a tall one."

"Uh, yeah, I get told that a lot," Sam said as he pulled his arm out of her grasp as politely as possible.

In the mean time Louise was cozying up to Dean.

"So you two are working at that scary lighthouse," Louise said. "It must be just terrifying there at night."

"Uh, not really," Dean said. "Things have been pretty quiet."

"Half the town is placing bets on how long you two last there," Jenny said. "But you two look pretty tough to me. I think you can handle a few ghosts."

"We'll do our best," Dean replied. "Uh, if you'll excuse us ladies, I think we should go and um…find…someone."

"Oh, do you have to go," Louise said, grabbing Dean's arm with her hands. "The island is so boring. Everyone knows everyone and we never have new people around to talk to."

"Jenny, Louise, I believe your mom is looking for you two," came a woman's voice from behind them.

Jenny and Louise both huffed in frustration and went to find their mom.

"Thank you," Sam said as he turned around. His words died on his lips. Standing before him was a woman who would take a man's breath away. She was maybe twenty three or twenty four, she had long silky auburn hair flowing down her back that ended in loose floppy curls. Her skin was like porcelain. Her eyes were brown, but they were large and expressive. Her clothes were simple but elegant. A fitted white shirt tucked into a pair of black slacks with black high heels.

Where Sam froze at the sight before him, Dean moved in for the kill.

"Hello," Dean said, flashing his most charming smile. "And thank you for rescuing us." He stretched out his hand and took hers in his own.

"Let me give you a word of advice about those two," she laughed. "Their mother has been trying to marry them off for a couple of years now and their father is looking for any excuse in the world to have a shot gun wedding."

"Gotcha," Dean replied with a smile. "I'm sorry, and your name is?"

"I'm sorry, I'm Tina Malone. I'm guessing by the way everyone here is staring at you two that you must be the new lighthouse keepers."

"Yes, I'm Dean Harte and this is my brother Sam."

"Hello," Sam said with a shy smile. Tina smiled back at him and he felt something inside him that he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Well, it looks as if the food is nearly ready. Shall we all go get something to eat?" Dean asked. "I'm actually eager to talk to someone about the lighthouse, if you know anything that is."

"Why? Have you experienced something already?" Tina asked.

"Uh, well, now that you mention it, just a few things," Dean replied smoothly. "I'm not sure how much we should say for fear of being sent to a psych ward."

"Oh, I don't think you're crazy," Tina laughed. "I know all about that place. I'm your closest neighbor. Of course I'm half a mile away, but I often go for walks by the lighthouse and I've seen plenty of things that would cause others to think I was a little nuts if I were to talk to them about it."

"Well then, I definitely think we need to sit down and share stories," Dean said, extending an arm out to escort her to the buffet line.

Sam followed behind, slightly jealous that Dean had already staked his claim, but then Dean was just so good at working the ladies. Although, Sam had a feeling Tina wasn't necessarily going to be worked over that easily.

The three loaded up their paper plates with mashed potatoes, meatballs, fried chicken and other delicious looking food. Then they found an out of the way table and had a seat.

"So, if you don't mind my asking," Tina said, "why are you two here?"

"Free food," Dean grinned, which caused Tina to laugh.

"No, not at the potluck, but here on Beaver Island. I mean honestly, your both young, you seem intelligent, and you're relatively handsome," she teased. "So why come to an island that is in the middle of no where, offers literally no entertainment, and just a day before the first snowfall."

"We needed the jobs for a while," Dean answered. "We've sort of been on a road trip for the past few months and funds started to run low. With winter right around the corner, it just seemed like a good idea."

"I can understand that. So do you two go to school or anything?"

"I just graduated from Stanford," Sam said. "I was about to go to law school but then…something came up."

"I'm pretty much in the same boat. I was about to start my last year at U of M but then my father passed away this past August and I ended up coming home for the funeral and didn't go back. I thought I could try and make a go at running the ranch, ya know, make the old man proud of me, but the truth is I'm in over my head. I've already sold off the horse stock and most of the equipment. Come spring I'm hoping to sell the house and then go back to school next fall and finish my BA."

"So what are you going to school for?" Sam asked.

"Child psychology," Tina replied.

"You should get along well with my brother then," Sam grinned.

"Are you a psych major too?" she asked.

"No, he just acts like a child," Sam chuckled.

"Ha, ha," Dean replied while giving Sam a dirty look. "Actually, I didn't go to college. I just never had the desire to go."

"So what do you do for a living?" she asked.

"I'm the lighthouse keeper on Beaver Island he said with a smirk."

"Oh, so you're one of those guys."

"What?" Dean asked.

"Here today…gone tomorrow."

"That's not true. I promise to be here tomorrow, and even the next day for that matter. But I admit, I can't guarantee where I'll be several weeks from now."

"Got it," Tina said. "So, you mentioned something about swapping ghost stories."

"Yes I did. What have you seen out there while on your walks?"

"Nope, you two first," she said and stuffed a bite of food in her mouth.

"We saw a woman in a long blue dress with her hair in a bun walk out into the lake and disappear under the water," Sam said.

"But you could see through her if you looked hard enough," Dean added.

"That would be Elizabeth Brown. Her husband, Pete, went out on the water one day. A severe storm appeared out of no where and his boat sank. He died out in the lake. Elizabeth had a break down after his death and a week later walked out there and joined him."

"What year was that?" Sam asked.

"Hmm…I'd say some time in the 1920's."

"The man and the boy," Sam continued, "are they Michael and Daniel Fritz?"

"That's what most people believe," Tina confirmed.

"What about the other one. The mean one, who's that?" Dean asked.

"I don't know, and neither did my father. Most of the info I have on that place came from dad. Both my grandfather and my father lived there. It's been in the family for a long time, which is why I was hesitant to sell it at first, but in the end I have to do what was right for me. I never wanted to work a horse farm, nor did I want to spend the rest of my days being an islander wife."

"Why? What's so wrong with this place?" Sam asked.

"Nothing's wrong with it, it's just that every day here is the same. The boats come the boats go. The fish are caught and sold. The men complain about the weather and the women cook their little potluck dinners and raise their kids. Honestly, I've lived most of my life here and I just couldn't take it anymore. The minute I turned eighteen I hopped on that ferry and was off to college."

"How did your mom take your leaving?" Dean asked.

"My mom died when I was four."

"I'm sorry," Dean said.

"It's okay," Tina shrugged. "It was a long time ago. I barely remember her. If it weren't for pictures I honestly would even know what she looked like. But getting back to the lighthouse, have you seen Caleb yet?"

"Who's Caleb?"

"He's the ghost who haunts the lighthouse. He's an old guy who's always standing up there by the railing. In the evening when I walk past you can always see him standing up there, like he's keeping watch or something."

"We haven't seen him yet?" Sam replied. "Tell me, the land the lighthouse is on, is it old Indian ground or something?"

"No, why?"

"Well, it's just not usual for a place to have so many ghosts haunting it," Dean said. "I mean, the lighthouse seems to be acting like a beacon for lost souls."

"Even worse than that, the lighthouse seems to be killing people to create more lost souls for it," Sam added.

"So you think the lighthouse itself if evil?" Tina asked. "Is that possible?"

"Anything is possible," Dean answered. "Did you know the last keeper? John?"

"Yeah, I used to ride Buttercup over to see him about once a week. He was a nice guy. Then one day he's just gone, never to be seen again."

"Did he seem like the type to just leave like that?" Sam asked.

"No, not really. From what I know, he never even saw any of the ghosts. I'd asked him about it and he would just tease me and tell me not to believe in ghosts."

"Excuse me folks!"

Everyone turned to look at the Reverend. "I hate to interrupt the festivities, but the sheriff has asked that I make an announcement. The weather has taken a turn for the worse. The snowstorm predicted for tonight and tomorrow has been upgraded to a blizzard with up to twenty inches of snow possible."

Immediately the quiet hall erupted with chatter.

"Quiet please," the Reverend continued. "Bob has graciously offered to go and open the store for a couple of hours so everyone can get any last minute supplies they may need before the storm hits. So go ahead and finish your meals and then go across the street and run your errands."

"I guess that's my cue to leave," Tina said. "I need to get a few things before tonight."

"Will you be alright at your place all by yourself?" Sam asked.

"Are you kidding," Tina smiled. "I've lived here my entire life, remember. If anyone around here needs looking after it'll probably be you two."

"We can take care of ourselves," Dean said.

"Well, it was a pleasure meeting you both, and I hope I see you again before you leave in a few weeks." She shook both their hands.

"I'm all for seeing you again," Dean said with his cocky grin. Tina gave him a smile almost as flirtatious as his own and then walked away.

"Wow," Dean said once she was out of earshot. "Bro, nothing personal, but I really wish I was sharing a room with her tonight instead of you."

Sam didn't reply. The truth was he was pretty much of the same opinion, but then he remembered Jessica and how much he loved her and suddenly he felt guilty for even thinking of such a thing. He had been right when he told Laurie he wasn't ready.

"We better get going ourselves," Dean said. "We can grab some paper plates from the store before heading back."

"Sure," Sam said.

They both stood up and dropped their plates in the trash. Once outside they were surprised by how the weather had changed just in the past couple of hours. This morning the sun had been shining brightly and even though it was cold it had been a nice day. Now the sky over head was thick with gray, ominous clouds and the wind whipped the barren trees around wildly. It almost reminded Sam of what it would be like just before a tornado came.

"We need to get the lighthouse running, ASAP," Sam said. "The water is going to be rough, really rough with winds like these."

"You're right. Skip the paper plates." Dean pointed at the store and Sam saw a line of people literally going down the side walk. They didn't have that kind of time on their hands. The hurried to the car and Dean raced for the most deserted part of the island.


	6. The Coming Storm

Chapter 6: The Coming Storm

Notes: Sorry it has been so long since the last chapter. Between the bad eyes, laundry, housework, and my job life got really busy…probably since I was so busy typing that I kind of ignored it all for a week or two! Then I got side tracked because of The Journey Home episode. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this next installment.

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By the time Dean got them back to the lighthouse the first large puffy snowflakes were just starting to fall. Dean hopped out of the car and opened the doors to the shed. He wasn't about to let his baby get buried under twenty inches of snow. He motioned for Sam to drive the car in and then he closed the double doors behind him.

They hurried to the house to get out of the blistering wind.

"I'll go start the lighthouse," Sam offered.

"You sure?" Dean asked. So far the light house had kind of been his job.

"Yeah. Why don't you go play with the radio and see if you can get us a weather update."

"Okay. After that I'm going to haul in some fire wood. I have a feeling we're going to need to light some of these fireplaces tonight." Dean started walking to the small office that was upstairs next to the game room and Sam went to the back of the house and climbed all the stairs.

He noticed the climb didn't seem so bad this time. He stepped up to the control panel and turned on the light and then turned on the rotation device to make the lantern turn. He didn't turn on the fog horn since there wasn't any, and besides, with the wind blowing like it was, no one would have been able to hear it anyway.

He stood by the windows and looked out into the distance. The water was rolling violently and crashing onto the shore below. The swells were enormous. He never would have thought that a lake could have such large waves, but then these weren't just your average little lakes. Lake Michigan was a huge body of water.

He looked at his watch and saw that it was only three o'clock, but the cloud cover and the falling flakes made it seem much later.

"I love being here."

"Ahh!" Sam exclaimed and almost tripped and fell. He looked over to see and old man standing not to far from him. He was tall and slightly hunch back. Wire rim spectacles were perched on his nose and his clothes were from the 20's or 30's. He had a pleasant face and a contented smile.

"I've spent many a day and night standing in this spot watching the waves roll in and out."

"Caleb?" Sam asked.

Now the man turned to look at Sam. His face changed. The smile disappeared, his brows creased deeply, and his lips clamped together in a grimace. "You have to lure it to the light house. It's the only way."

"Lure what?"

"Lure it to the lighthouse. It's the only way." Then Caleb, who had seemed solid, began to fade slowly away until he was gone.

"Wait! You have to tell me more!" It was too late. Sam was alone.

000000

Dean dumped a second load of wood in the bucket next to the fireplace in their bedroom room. He marched down the stairs again. He pulled his collar tighter around his neck before going outside for another load of cord wood, this time for the living room fireplace.

The minute he opened the door the wind blasted him and caused the door to fly back and hit the wall.

"Crap," he grumbled. He grabbed for the door and pulled it shut. He moved as quickly as he could with the wind pushing against him to the side of the house and pulled out another heavy load of wood from under the tarp. Once his arms were stacked with as much as they could carry he hurried back to the front door.

He juggled his burden and grabbed the knob but it wouldn't turn. He tried again and realized he was locked out. He used the door and his knee to balance the wood as he dug around in his pockets for the key. He didn't have it. Of course, Sam had been the one to park the car. Sam had the house key.

Dean pounded on the door for Sam to let him in. After a minute Sam had yet to open it. Again he pounded.

"Come on, Sam. It's freezing out here," he complained. He beat on the door furiously. Still there was no Sam. He dropped the wood on the porch and moved to the window next to the door. He peered through the lace curtains. He couldn't see Sam. He rapped at the window.

"Sam! SAMMY!" he called. "SAM, LET ME IN!" As soon as the words left his mouth the wind carried them away.

He thought about breaking the window but decided against it. Then the house would be cold and he'd have to find a way to patch it up. He went back to the door and pounded once more. The door and even the windows shook from the force of his blows.

_Damn it. Every time Sam needs me I'm there for him. Every time. The first time I need his help where the hell is he? He's up playing in the damn lighthouse and I'm out here fucking freezing to death._

The angry thoughts pulsed through his head. His fists curled and uncurled with fury.

"SAM, OPEN THE DAMN DOOR BEFORE I BREAK IT DOWN!" Dean beat at the door with his fists like a pro boxer beating on a bag.

Suddenly the door opened and before Dean could even stop it his fist connected with Sam's jaw and sent the younger Winchester flying back and falling to the floor.

"Sammy!" Dean gasped. In an instant his protectiveness kicked in and replaced the anger he had felt just a moment earlier.

He kneeled down next to Sam and helped him to sit up. "Are you okay?"

"What the hell did you hit me for?" Sam asked, rubbing his jaw.

"I didn't mean it," Dean protested. "I've been beating on that door for damn near five minutes, freezing my ass off. Where the hell have you been?" The anger returned to his voice. "How could you leave me out there like that?" he accused.

"Dean, I would never knowingly leave you out in a storm," Sam defended. "I was in the lighthouse. I didn't know you got locked outside. You have to believe me. If I had known of course I would have opened the door."

Dean sighed. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I guess I just got a little angry. Hell, it's my own fault. I should have double checked the lock before pulling the door too."

"I tell you what. Why don't you go sit in the living room and warm up. I'll bring in the rest of the wood."

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to," Sam offered. "Really, you go sit, I'll finish up."

"All right, thanks."

Sam watched Dean go in the living room. He grabbed his coat and his gloves which were next to the door and shrugged them on. He rubbed his jaw gingerly one more time before he headed out. Wow, it was cold and the wind was blowing so hard. He could understand why Dean was so upset at getting locked out.

He collected the wood that Dean had left on the porch and then made a total of eight more trips in and out. He knew that getting the wood would be easier now than it would be come tomorrow. He hurried to the living room to dump the logs on top of the others which were now spilling out of the metal bucket next to the hearth.

"Sam I think we have enough now," Dean said. He was already working on lighting a fire.

"I'm just going to make a couple more trips," Sam replied. "Tomorrow the wood pile will be under twenty inches of snow."

"Good point," Dean replied as he held a lit match to the kindling.

"When I finish up I'll start on making us something for dinner tonight."

"Okay." Dean watched Sam head out into the storm once more. He felt a little guilty. Sam was doing all the work even after Dean had punched him in the face. He should at least go to the kitchen and find something simple to prepare, even if it was just a can of soup with crackers.

_Then again, he was always taking care of Sam. Maybe it was time to sit back and let Sam take care of him for a while. It only seemed fair._

Sam filled his arms again and walked back to the door again. He was getting tired and his lungs were starting to burn from breathing the cold air. One more trip after this one and he'd be done.

He opened his mouth and made circles with his chin. His face hurt but not too badly. He had been shocked when Dean punched him, but then it had been an accident. Dean didn't know he was opening the door at that exact moment.

Back in the house he carried this batch of wood to the dinning room. He doubted they would be starting any fires in there, but there was another bucket in there that was empty and Sam decided to put it to use.

Sam headed for the door and as he passed the room where Dean was he saw Dean lying back in the sofa in front of the roaring fire. His feet were propped up on the coffee table and his eyes were closed as he relaxed. Sam smiled. He rarely got to see Dean like this…relaxed…unguarded. He hoped that over the next couple of weeks Dean could see that living a normal life wasn't that bad, that being settled and having a home could actually be a nice thing. He knew he would never get Dean to give up hunting, but he might be able to at least get Dean to be open-minded to the day when he might actually stop.

As he brought in the last load of wood and headed for the kitchen he realized that he had forgotten to tell Dean about Caleb and what happened in the lighthouse. Oh well, he could tell Dean during dinner. He figured he might as well let Dean take a nap while he prepared the meal.

0000000

"Dean, wake up," Sam called.

"Hmm, what time is it?" he asked as he rubbed at his eyes.

"It's going on five. Come on, I've got dinner on the table," Sam called.

Dean stood up and stretched out his back and gave a yawn. He followed Sam. Wow, something smelled good.

Dean entered the kitchen and saw that Sam had gone all out. The table was set and sitting in the middle was roast beef in gravy, mashed potatoes, and corn. Sam had made a ton of food.

"This looks good, but why did you make so much?"

"I figured we'd have the left over spaghetti tomorrow for lunch and then the leftovers from this meal tomorrow for dinner."

"That's good thinking," Dean said. He was still a little groggy from his nap.

He sat down and Sam set two beers on the table before taking a seat himself. Dean began to load up his plate. As he passed the potatoes to Sam he suddenly got a good look at Sam's face. There was a large bruise on Sam's left jaw line.

"Dude, did I do that to you?" Dean gasped.

"What?" Sam asked. "Oh!" He touched his face gently and then gave a shrug of his shoulders. "It was an accident. It'll fade away in a couple of days."

"I'm really sorry," Dean said honestly. "You know I'd never hurt you."

"I know," Sam replied with a chuckle. Dean had spent most of his life protecting him. If there was one thing Sam knew with absolute certainty, it was that Dean would never hurt him on purpose for any reason.

Dean shoved several bites into his mouth. "Hm, this is good. Thanks for cooking."

"No problem." Truth was Sam liked having the chance to do something nice for his brother. Dean was always the one taking care of him. It felt good to have the shoe on the other foot for a while.

"How deep is the snow?" Dean asked.

"Not that deep yet, maybe and inch or two. Speaking of snow, we're going to have to find the shovels."

"There's a snow blower in the shed," Dean said. "It's not to far from the snowmobiles."

"That's good to know. That'll make things a lot easier."

"You know, I can take those stitches out tonight if you want. The doctor in Stars Hallow said they could come out after a week. I think we're actually a day or two late."

Sam raised his hand to the side of his neck and felt the sutures. He had actually sort of forgotten about them. "Sure." He replied. "You'll have to remove the ones on my arm too."

"I'll get the first aid kit as soon as we're done eating," Dean said.

"Great."

0000000

Sam stretched out across his bed. He was actually really comfortable. Dean had removed his stitches and he was now wearing his sweat pants and a well worn and soft t-shirt. He had lit the fireplace in the bedroom and had a really good blaze going. It was making the room nice and toasty. The wind was blowing just as wildly as it had the previous night but the light and heat of the fire made the room feel safe and secure.

Sam was once again reading one of the books about local lore. Mostly it was repeating information he had already gathered. The rest of the book talked about famous ship wrecks or boats that had vanished without a trace. Apparently over the decades a many a boat had gone down in the waters around here, usually due to a severe storm.

The loud crack of pool balls crashing together let Sam know where Dean was. He was two doors down in the game room.

Sam closed the book, turned off the lamp, and rolled over in his bed to stare out the window. He could see the beam of the lighthouse travel over head and make its rotation around and around.

'One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand, four one thousand, five one thousand, six one thousand,' he counted in his head. It took the light six seconds to make a complete turn.

As the light traveled it illuminated the sky around it and Sam could see the giant flakes of snow falling fast and furious. The blizzard was no longer coming, it was officially here and it was quickly blanketing the area.

Another crack of the pool balls let Sam know that he wouldn't be falling asleep any time soon. He suddenly had an attack of the munchies. He remembered that Dean had bought Twinkies and Oreo's and all kind of yummy junk food. It was time to raid the fridge and the pantry.

He got out of bed and started down the stairs. Once more he heard Dean take a shot and then the sound of the ball rolling through the inside of the pool table. He had obviously pocketed that ball.

He continued on down the stairs, past the living room and dining room, and down the hall towards the kitchen door. He pushed open the swinging door and saw Dean sitting at the table with a pile of Oreo's and a tall glass of milk.

"Dean?" Sam gasped.

"Hey, I had an attack of the munchies," Dean grinned.

"But you were just upstairs shooting pool," Sam said.

"I haven't touched the pool table since I've been here," Dean said.

Without a word Sam turned and ran back the way he came. Dean abandoned his midnight snack and followed Sam up the stairs. Sam dashed into the game room and stopped. He looked at the pool table but there was nothing there. The table was empty. He could see all the balls were behind the little window inside the table itself. The sticks were all lined up neatly on the wall along with the rack.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"I swear something was in here playing pool. I was lying in bed reading a book and I heard you, or I thought it was you, cracking the balls together taking shot after shot."

"I believe you," Dean said. "Last night you were asleep and I was just getting ready to when the toilet flushed. I went to the bathroom and the tank was still filling itself up. Not only do we have ghosts, but apparently they like to keep busy."

"But what's holding them here. It's not natural for there to be so many here."

"I agree, and I don't know yet."

"Do you think it could have something to do with the light?" Sam said, thinking of the top of his head.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. I was remembering the movie with the little girl, Poltergeist. The short lady, she kept telling it to go to the light. Maybe our ghosts aren't going to the real light because they're getting misguided by the lighthouse."

"Sammy, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

Sam sighed. Even he had to admit it sounded pretty stupid. "It was just a thought."

"Yeah, well, I'm going to go finish my Oreo's. You coming?"

"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute."

"Okay."

Sam looked around the room one more time after Dean left. For ghosts they were pretty damn fast. They not only were playing pool but managed to put everything away in a matter of seconds. Oh well. He turned to leave but then stopped when he heard a noise.

He looked at the floor where the noise was coming from. Out from underneath the pool table came the black 8 ball rolling slowly towards him. The ball stopped rolling when it gently bumped into his foot. He bent down and picked the ball up to look at it. This place was strange even for a haunted house.

He set the ball on the table and turned for the door. He was almost out of the room when he heard something hard hit the floor. He looked back and once again the 8 ball was on the floor rolling toward him.

"What the hell?" For a second time Sam picked up the ball. This time instead of simply placing it on the table he actually put it in the pocket.

Again he turned to leave. Just as he was about to exit the room something struck him hard in the back, actually knocking the wind out of him. The he heard the familiar sound of the 8 ball dropping on the floor and rolling across the hard wood.

He rubbed his back and put pressure on the spot where he had been hit. God almighty that hurt. Sam kicked the 8 ball away from him and grabbed the handle of the door and slammed it shut before anything else could fly at him.

All thoughts of a junk food left his mind. He went back to his room with the cozy fire place and crawled into his bed. He looked at the floor real quick to make sure the circle of salt was still there. Satisfied that both he and Dean would be safe as they slept he made himself comfortable on his side and tried to wait for Dean to come back up but he slowly drifted off.

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"_Damn it Sammy, I'm sick of taking care of your ass. I swear you're useless. Four years of college and you're still as stupid as you ever were!"_

_The words were as sharp and painful as any knife. Sam instantly felt his emotions rise._

"_It wasn't my fault," he defended._

"_It is your fault! It's always your fault! Well I'm sick of it! Do you hear me? I'm sick of it and I'm sick of you!"_

_Dean reached behind himself and grabbed something from the pool table. The next thing Sam knew Dean had the black 8 ball in his fist and he swung his hand toward Sam's head. The hard object struck Sam in the temple and he went down on all fours._

"_No!" Sam called. He couldn't believe Dean had hurt him. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. _

"_From now on I'm on my own. All you do is slow me down. You can't hunt. No matter what we go after I have to save you from it. Well no more! I always wanted to be an only child. Looks like I'm about to get my wish._

_Dean raised his hand with the 8 ball once more and swung down as hard as he could towards Sam's head._

"_NOOOO!"_

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"NOOOO!" Sam sat up so fast and jerked so hard to deflect the blow that he actually fell out of his bed.

"Sam!" Dean exclaimed as he sat up in bed. He got up and moved to help his little brother.

"Stay away from me!" Sam cried. He pushed himself back against the wall farther out of Dean's reach.

"Sammy, you had a dream. You're okay now." Dean could see Sam was trembling. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Sam snapped, and then a little calmer he repeated, "no."

"Okay," Dean replied. "Was it a vision?"

"No, no it was just a nightmare. What I just dreamed would never happen," Sam replied.


	7. Snow

Chapter 7: Snow

"What would never happen?" Dean asked.

"Nothing."

"Sam, stop keeping secrets from me. I can't protect you or myself if you leave me in the dark. If something is coming then I need to know about it."

"Dean, nothing is coming, okay. I dreamed you were about to kill me. Like I said, it was a nightmare. That would never happen."

"Was it the shape shifter?" Dean asked.

"No, it was you and we were here, and you had that damn 8 ball. Tomorrow I'm going to bury that thing somewhere."

"Eight ball? What are you talking about?"

"Tonight after you left the game room the 8 ball attacked me."

"What? Why didn't you tell me?" Dean demanded.

"I don't know," Sam replied tiredly. "It was no big deal."

"Where did it hit you?" Dean asked.

"On my back."

"Get up," Dean ordered.

Sam stood up and immediately started to protest. "Dean, I'm all right."

Dean ignored him. He lifted the back of Sam's shirt and found a perfect round bruise just under Sam's right shoulder blade. Sam yanked his shirt out of Dean's hand and pulled it back down around his waist.

"It's just a bruise. I'm fine," Sam announced. He could already see the worry in Dean's eyes.

"I don't like the fact that these things keep coming after you," Dean said.

"Nothing is coming after me," Sam insisted. "We are in a haunted house connected to a haunted lighthouse. Of course we're going to run into the ghosts."

"Still, you're having nightmares again."

"I always have nightmares," Sam replied.

"Yeah, but they weren't happening every night. The past two months had been better."

"I didn't have a nightmare last night."

"But you had a vision this morning."

"Dean, drop it. I'm fine. You are totally making a big deal out of nothing."

"Maybe," Dean said.

"Let's just go back to bed. It'll be morning soon."

"Fine." Dean went back to his bed and climbed in with his back towards Sam.

Sam knew Dean was worried about him and that was why he got huffy, but he didn't want Dean to baby him. Sam really wanted to have the chance to prove himself here. He couldn't even explain why it was so important to him. He just knew that Dean was always taking care of him and now it was his turn to pick up some of the slack.

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After a breakfast of instant oatmeal with raisins and maple syrup dumped in to make it taste like something, Dean and Sam bundled up in layer upon layer of clothing. They opened the front door and began to trek through the knee and even thigh high snow drifts.

"Dude, this is a lot of fucking snow," Dean said. "How the hell do people live like this all winter?"

"I think we're about to find out," Sam chuckled.

"Yeah, laugh it up, college boy, but let's see if you're still laughing after we finish shoveling all of this crap." Dean hated snow and the job that lay before them seemed endless. They need to clean out the driveway, the front walk, a path to the wood pile, and a path to the shed. This was going to take hours!

He was just about to open his mouth to complain some more when something hit him in the back of the head. "What the?" he turned to Sam only to have Sam hit him with another snowball to the chest.

"Sam! We don't have time for this!" Dean griped.

Sam ignored him and reached down to make another snow ball.

"Sam, if you hit me with that thing I swear you'll be sorry."

Sam just had this happy smirk on his face and let it rip. The snowball smacked Dean on the top of his head.

"That's it!" Dean charged Sam and the two fell back into a huge drift. Dean started grabbing handfuls of snow and throwing them on Sam's face. Sam managed somehow to get a little leverage and rolled Dean off of him and started throwing more snow at him. Soon both brothers were laughing and carrying on like kids.

"Okay! Okay!" Dean called, waving his hands in the air. "You win!" He fell on to his back and laid there for a moment trying to catch his breath from all the laughing.

"See, not everything about snow is bad," Sam laughed.

"I still say you won't be laughing several hours from now," Dean replied.

"Maybe not, but at least when we're done we can curl up in front of the fire with some hot chocolate."

"Hey, did you get marshmallows?" Dean asked.

"No, but we've got whipped cream."

"Okay, let's get up before our asses freeze in place and get this done," Dean said and climbed to his feet. He reached down and gave Sam a hand and pulled him up too.

Finally back to business they went in the shed and Dean passed Sam a shovel while he got the snow blower.

"Why do you get the blower?" Sam asked.

"Because."

"Because why?" Sam asked.

"Because I'm older," Dean replied.

"I want the blower," Sam said, handing the shovel back to Dean.

"I do the driving in this family," Dean replied and started the engine of the blower.

Sam tried to complain about getting stuck with the back breaking shovel but Dean just turned the blower up to full speed and drowned out any complaints Sam might have had. Dean flashed him his cockiest smile and headed for the door.

Sam sighed but took his shovel and followed Dean out of the shed. Dean started to work on the driveway so that once the plow came through he'd be able to get the Impala out. Sam decided he might as well start working on the path from the house to the shed.

After just five minutes of shoveling he had to admit that it was hard work. The snow was so deep that it took several turns of the shovel before he was at ground level. After a bit he managed to get into a rhythm and made quicker progress. By the time he reached the house he was huffing and puffing pretty hard.

He looked at Dean and saw that he was about a third of the way done with the drive. He was also having to work hard. The snow was so high that he couldn't just push the blower back and forth. He had to tilt it and come down on the snow and then tilt it back again for the next spot.

Sam thought about going inside and warming up for a bit but decided against it. The quicker they got it done the sooner they could both go inside and relax.

He moved to the other side of the porch and started shoveling a path to the wood pile. By the time he finished that jab he was really panting hard. His lungs burned, his nose was dripping, and his cheeks were frozen, as were his legs. He looked down and saw that his jeans were wet clean up to his thighs.

He knew it was time to go in the house before he risked getting frostbite. He followed the path he had just made back to the shed and then down the drive way. He tapped Dean on the shoulder. Dean turned to look at him.

"I'm going in for a while to warm up," Sam told him. "You should come too. We've been out here for over an hour."

"I'm fine," Dean shouted over the motor. "You go ahead though."

Sam shrugged but headed for the door. Once inside he pulled off his boots and shed his coat, hat, and gloves. He went to their room and pulled off the soaking wet pants and pulled on a pair of dry ones and then put on some dry socks as well.

He was about to go downstairs when he heard footsteps over head. Something was in the attic. He began to look for the stairs but didn't see a trap door in the ceiling anywhere. He opened what he thought was a closet door and saw it was actually a staircase. He searched for a light switch on the wall but there was nothing there. A window at the top let in plenty of sunlight so he was able to see pretty well.

The attic was full of boxes and cast off furniture. There was a pile of rolled maps, a dress maker's mannequin, racks of old clothes from other decades, even other centuries, and things draped in sheets. It would have been a perfect place for children to play hide and seek in.

Sam opened several of the boxes and began to go through the items in them. Much of it was junk. There were old magazines in there, books, dishes, and bolts of moth eaten fabric.

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Dean was still hard at work. He just wanted to get the job done. He looked back and saw that Sam must have still been in the house. He was taking a long time to warm up. Dean was cold too but he was still out here busting butt.

He turned off the snow blower and leaned on the handle bar for a moment to take a quick break. He looked back at the house. Covered in snow the way it was it looked like something from a magazine. The lights were on, smoke drifted up from the chimney, a wreath had been placed on the front door. Except for it being haunted, it was the nicest place he had ever stayed in.

He looked up at the sky. An hour ago there had been nothing but endless sunshine, now in the distance he saw thick clouds rolling in. He hadn't listened to the weather report this morning. He hoped another snow storm wasn't already coming.

Movement on the side of the house caught his eye. Something was by the wood pile, now out of sight. He followed the clear path around. He smiled when he saw what had caught his attention. It was a deer.

"Sorry fella, I don't have any carrots. Maybe I can have Sam find you something."

The deer jerk to attention and stood stock still. Dean listened carefully to see if he could hear what had frightened the animal. Suddenly the deer bolted through the woods away from Dean and the house.

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Sam was about to close the box he had been looking through when something caught his eye. It was a small leather bound book. It looked very old. He picked it up and opened it. _The Diary of Jessica Barrette_. The name caught Sam off guard. Jessica. He felt a moment of grief swell up in him but pushed it down. This wasn't written by his Jessica. It had belonged to someone else. He flipped through the pages and saw the dates written at the top of each page. The book started with December 14, 1895. Wow, the diary was a hundred and ten years old. How interesting! He decided to take the book with him back down stairs.

A loud rumbling noise started vibrating across the roof. Sam looked up expecting to see it collapse in or something, but as the rumbling continued he heard the noise sliding down off the side. He knew what had happened, all the snow on the sloped roof had just slid off to the ground below.

"Aw shit," Sam mumbled. That meant the path he had just dug out was probably reburied under even more snow than before. He needed to get back outside and help Dean with the work. He was nice and warm now and Dean was probably wondering where he was.

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Dean looked up when he heard the rumbling. At first he didn't have a clue what it was but by the time he figured it out it was too late. Giant, heavy blocks of snow and ice began to pummel him from above. Dean fell from the weight as literally the entire roofs worth of snow fell on him and buried most of his body. His head was still exposed, thank god, and he struggled to climb out. He never saw the large chunk of ice that snapped off from the gutter three stories up, but he felt the impact as it made contact with the back of his skull. Dean collapsed face down in the snow and passed out.

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Sam pulled his boots back on and bundled up in his coat, hat, and gloves once more. He opened the door and realized that it was quiet outside. The loud motor of the snow blower was off. He saw the machine still sitting in the drive way. Dean must have finally decided to go in the house and have a break.

He went to the kitchen. He knew Dean wasn't upstairs because he had just come from there. Dean wasn't in the kitchen though. He walked to the living room. Nothing.

"Dean!" Sam called. When he didn't get an answer he figured Dean was still out side.

He left the house and followed the cleared path to the shed and looked inside. Dean wasn't there either, but both snow mobiles were still there so he hadn't left. So where the hell was he?

He stepped out of the shed and called loudly, "DEAN!" He waited. "DEAN!" He started walking back toward the house. Maybe Dean had been upstairs and Sam had just missed him. On the porch Sam finally heard something.

"_sam_"

Sam turned around and looked once more. "Dean!"

"Sammy."

Dean's voice was coming from around the house. Sam hurried to the wood pile. As he turned the corner he was shocked at what he saw. Dean was lying, almost buried, in the snow.

"Dean!" Sam gasped and hurried to help his brother. He kneeled down next to Dean and started to check him out. "What happened?"

"Uh, snow," Dean muttered. "Something hit me in the head."

"Did you lose consciousness?"

"I…I don't know."

Sam suspected he had. Dean seemed really out of it. Sam started unburying Dean and soon was able to help Dean roll over and sit up.

"Do you think this was an attack," Sam asked, "or did the weight of the snow honestly cause it to fall naturally?"

"I really don't know," Dean replied.

"Come on, we need to get you in the house," Sam told him. "You're freezing."

As if to prove Sam's words true, Dean let out two sneezes. Sam helped Dean to stand and then wrapped an arm around Dean when he wobbled and almost fell back down.

"I can walk," Dean insisted.

"I'm sure you can," Sam said. "Just humor me."

Dean begrudgingly let Sam help him to the house. As soon as they were inside Sam reached for the zipper of Dean's coat and tried to help him.

"Sam, stop it. I'm fine." Dean waved his hand away and then pulled off his gloves and unzipped his coat himself.

"You're not fine. You're dizzy, you're cold, and you have a head injury."

"Dude, chill out. It's a bump, not an injury. I'm not dizzy, and ten minutes by the fire and I won't be cold."

"If it were me right now you'd be making a fuss," Sam pointed out.

"Yeah, well, what can I say? My head is harder than yours."

"You mean thicker," Sam mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing," Sam replied. "Why don't you go crash in the living room? I'll get you something hot to drink to help warm you up."

"Sam, don't mother me. I'm…achoo…just fine…achoo."

"Right. Now go to the damn living room and lay down. I'll be right back."

Sam headed for the kitchen, ignoring the scowl Dean was giving him. Dean didn't seem to realize how dangerous his situation had been. He was lucky Sam came looking for him when he did or he could have gone into hypothermia out there. Plus, something had hit his head hard enough to knock him out.

Dean got comfy on the couch and pulled the quilt that was draped over the back on top of him. Truth was, he was chilled to the bone but he would never tell Sam that. He didn't need to have anyone coddling him. He'd just warm up a bit, let the dizziness pass, and then he'd get back outside and finish up removing the snow.

Sam opened a can of chicken noodle soup and dumped it into an over sized mug. He added some water then stuck it in the microwave. He tapped his toes for the two and half minutes it took to heat it and tossed a spoon into the cup and took it back to Dean.

"Here, eat this," Sam said.

"What is it?"

"Soup."

Dean took the cup and blew the steam away.

"Just relax. I'll go and finish up the snow."

"I'll be out as soon as I warm up," Dean insisted.

"What ever," Sam said and marched outside. Why did Dean have to be so damn stubborn? Sam actually laughed at his own question. Because that was who Dean was. Life had made Dean the way he was and he would never change.

Outside Sam abandoned the shovel and grabbed the blower. He used the blower to clear the path to the wood pile once more and then did the walk. It was much faster this time around.

Finally Sam tackled the driveway. Like Dean, he had to keep tilting the blower back and forth to remove all of the snow. By the time he finished an hour later he was soaked in his own sweat and he was completely exhausted.

He put the blower and the shovel back in the shed where they came from and went back in the house. Once more he stripped down out of his winter garb and kicked off his boots. He looked in on Dean in the living room and found him sleeping again on the sofa. He picked up the empty soup cup and tossed another log on the fire before leaving Dean alone to sleep.


	8. Bonding

Chapter 8: Bonding

Author's Notes: Oh my god, I can't believe I have 100+ reviews. I've been writing fiction for years and I've never had a story so well received as this one. Thank you to everyone who reviewed. It may sound silly, but reviews and feedback really do motivate a writer to keep going. Now with that said, on to the story.

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Sam sat in the small office listening to the weather report. His heart sunk when he heard that yet another storm was coming tonight and it was expected to drop and additional ten inches. Dean was definitely going to freak out when he heard that, especially after all the work they put in today. Still, at least it wasn't another twenty coming like yesterday.

Sam went to the kitchen and microwaved himself a plate of spaghetti and took it up to his room. He was starving after all the work he'd just done and he wolfed his food down in a matter of minutes.

He set the dirty plate on the bedside table and stripped his clothes off. He saw the clothes hamper in the corner and threw them in. The hamper was pretty full. He'd have to do a load of laundry, but that could wait.

He needed a shower in the worst possible way. He walked to the bathroom in his boxers and turned on the hot water and waited for the shower to get nice and steamy. He saw that Dean had put all their personal items in the bathroom already. He grabbed the shampoo bottle, the bar of soap, and a wash cloth.

He stepped under the powerful spray and let the water glide down his body. He turned his back to the spray and let the water beat into the sore muscle in his back where he got hit by the pool ball.

He took his time soaping up and scrubbing the sweat from his body. Because most motels had a check out time of ten o'clock he never really got to relax in the shower like he used to in school, so he was enjoying just standing there. The hot water was quickly removing any chill he may have had from working outside. He shampooed his hair and closed his eyes as he rinsed the lather out.

He stayed in the shower until the water literally began to run cold and then he finally stepped out and grabbed a towel to dry off. He walked over to the sink and picked up his razor. He hadn't shaved in two days and he was looking a little scruffy. Usually he just ran Dean's electric razor over his face but today he decided to have an honest to god shave. After that was finished he grabbed the scissors and chopped off a little bit of the hair on his forehead. He had done it before and he knew what he was doing.

Finally he walked back to his room and pulled out some clean clothes and got dressed. He laid the blue jeans he had been wearing this morning over the back of a chair so they could dry since they were still clean, just wet.

He should go downstairs and do a load of laundry but he decided it could wait until tomorrow. He flipped on the television and grabbed the remote.

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Dean awoke with a start. For a second he didn't realize where he was but the crackling of the fire quickly reminded him. Damn, this was two days in a row he had fallen asleep in the middle of the afternoon. That just wasn't his style. Sam was usually the one who needed naps because he nights were so messed up. He looked at his watch and saw it was almost two.

He sat up and stretched his muscles. He was glad to see that his head didn't hurt, but the back of his head was still sore to the touch. He stood up and walked to the window. He looked out and saw that Sam had finished all the shoveling. Damn, he hadn't meant for Sam to get stuck with all that work. Oh well, there was nothing he could do about it now.

He wandered into the kitchen and saw the pot of left over spaghetti and filled a plate and zapped it in the microwave. He dumped a small mountain of cheese on top and went to find Sam.

He had to admit, he like the concept of having a kitchen with food it in. Not that he was willing to give up hunting mind you, but still, a fridge was nice. Maybe he would buy one of those mini fridges they made for cars now. Since neither he nor Sam smoked they wouldn't mind losing the cigarette lighter in favor of a fridge.

Although how Sam would be able to continue cooking while on the road would be another problem. He guessed he would just have to enjoy this while it lasted.

He heard Sam laughing out loud and decided to go and see what was so funny. He found Sam stretched out on his bed watching a movie.

"What are you watching?" Dean asked.

"Hey, how's your head?" Sam inquired.

"It's fine," Dean replied. "So what's this?"

"National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation," Sam answered. "I've seen it before but it's still hysterical. Have you seen it?"

"No," Dean replied.

"I can restart it if you want. I'm only about twenty minutes into it."

"Sure, okay," Dean said and had a seat next to Sam on the giant sleigh bed. Sam scooted over and propped his pillows some more and got comfortable once again and then used the remote to restart the movie.

Dean set his empty dish on top of Sam's discarded one on the table and laid back too. For the next hour the two of them would bust out laughing every time Chevy Chase would do or say something funny.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked when Sam paused the movie.

"I have to go to the bathroom," he answered.

"So you stopped the movie for that?"

"I don't want to miss anything."

"But you've already seen it," Dean complained.

"Oh quit whining, I'll be back in a sec."

"I do not whine," Dean mumbled. Once more he stretched out his legs and arms while he waited for Sam to get back.

It suddenly dawned on him how normal their lives were at the moment. They had jobs, a house, and were watching a DVD relaxing in the middle of the day. Dean even had to admit that it wasn't totally awful, either. He definitely didn't want to spend the rest of his life this way, but having this short break wasn't all bad, except for the snow part. That definitely sucked. Still, over all he was enjoying the little bit of domesticity with Sam, and even better, Sam was really happy.

Sam came back into the room, hopped on the bed and turned the movie back on. Dean continued to watch the movie but every now and then he would glance at Sam.

"What?" Sam asked after the third time.

"Nothing," Dean replied.

"There must be something. You keep looking at me. Do I have food on my face or something?"

Dean laughed. "No, its…nothing, really." Dean turned back to the movie and again laughed out loud when the Christmas turkey suddenly imploded.

Sam looked at the turkey and hoped the one he was planning on cooking next week didn't come out looking like that one. As he watched the movie he realized he would have to think of something to get Dean for Christmas since the holiday was next month. It was too bad that they probably would be back on the road by the time Christmas came, but there was nothing he could do about that. It wasn't like he hadn't opened his presents in a motel room before, providing there had even been any presents to open that year. Most Christmases had been spent like any other day. Holidays and birthdays had just never been a priority to John Winchester. There had been no cakes and hardly any presents. He had never been allowed to believe in Santa or the Tooth Fairy or any of the other magical things that made childhood special. 'No Sammy, there isn't a Santa Claus, but we better hurry and kill the monster under your bed.'

Sam sighed and forced the depressing thoughts from his mind. It didn't do any good to look back. The past was the past and there was no changing it. Dean was right. He was 22; it was time to let it go. Of course that was easier said than done. But even if he couldn't change the past, he could make an effort to improve the now, and maybe even the future. He and Dean would always be hunters, but maybe he could teach Dean a thing or two about life. He could show him that things like presents and birthdays and watching movies weren't so bad. Maybe he and Dean could reach a compromise. They could still kill the bad things, but they could also do other stuff too.

"Those people are idiots," Dean laughed when the family suddenly got attacked by a squirrel. "It's just a squirrel. I mean, shot the damn thing and be done with it! At the very least just give it a good kick across the room. Hell, throw a blanket over it and then bash its brains in."

Sam grinned. Okay, he would have to take baby steps with Dean, but he was sure he could get his 'shoot first and ask questions later' brother to see that taking a day off every now and then could be a good thing.

When the movie ended neither one moved at first. Finally Sam ejected the DVD and put it back in the case.

"They have 'Home for the Holidays' here if you want to watch it. I saw it with Jess. It's also funny."

"When did you find time to study with all the movies you watched?" Dean teased.

"I'm good at multi-tasking," Sam joked. "Really, it was Jess mostly. She liked movies, especially funny ones. She used to love to laugh." Sam stopped talking as he became lost in the memories. He closed his eyes and immediately saw her face, her smile, the sparkle in her eyes. He was surprised when a smile came to his face instead of tears. It was the first time he had thought of her and remembered only the happy, and not the sad.

Dean realized Sam was taking a trip down memory lane and he didn't want to see his brother hurting again.

"Put the movie in," he suggested. "It's not like we have anything more pressing to do. Hey, you never made that hot chocolate you mentioned this morning."

Sam smiled at him. "I'll make it now. Then we can watch the movie." He walked out of the room.

"And bring back the Twinkies when you come!" Dean shouted.

"Okay," Sam called from the stairs.

Dean mentally patted himself on the back. Now that Sam had a task to do he wouldn't get all moody and depressed again.

He got up and threw another log on the fire and walked to the window. He was shocked to see that it was snowing again. It wasn't a blizzard, thank god, but still, large downy flakes were quietly falling from the sky. Actually, the seen out the window reminded him of a snow globe. It was quite beautiful.

He headed downstairs to tell Sam to look outside but there was no need. From the stairs he could see Sam standing in the open door way watching the snow fall.

"Hey," Dean called. "How are we supposed to keep this place warm if you leave the door open?" His voice sounded gruff but since he had a huge smile on his face Sam knew he was joking.

"The snow is so perfect it almost looks fake," Sam said.

"That's why I came down. I was going to tell you to look outside."

Sam pushed the door to and headed for the kitchen with Dean trailing behind him.

Dean had a seat on a stool while Sam measured and poured milk in a small pot on the stove. He set the fire and dug through the cupboards till he found the box of cocoa.

"Dean, I want to say thank you," Sam spoke up as he continued to make the hot drink.

"For what?" Dean's eyebrows shot up in curiosity.

"For bringing me here," Sam replied. "At first I couldn't understand why you took this job, at least, why you chose it now, this time of year, knowing we'd get stuck and all."

"Sam, I don't know what you're talking about," Dean protested. "We hunt ghosts. This place is haunted. Hence, our being here." He had no intention of admitting to Sam that they were here because Dean was worried about him and figured Sam needed a little bit of stability.

"The answer isn't that simple and you know it," Sam insisted.

"Then tell me, genius, why are we here?"

"Because of me," Sam replied. "Because of what happened in Stars Common."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Dean, you picked this place so I could have a break from the road," Sam stated. "And…I appreciate it. I'll be honest, that last job…hell, the last few months, it's…it's been a lot to take…all at once."

"Sam, don't go getting all emotional on me," Dean exclaimed. "I picked this job because people have died here. That's all. The end!"

"Okay, whatever," Sam finally relented. Dean wasn't about to admit the truth and have a girly moment. He poured the hot milk into the mugs and stirred in the chocolate. He passed one cup to Dean.

"What? No whipped cream."

Sam laughed. He walked to the fridge and pulled out the can of Readi-Whip and put a swirl in Dean's mug.

"Better?" Sam asked.

"Much." Dean took a sip of his chocolate and put the cup back on the counter. "So, you really like being here, huh?"

"Yeah, I do. I mean, I wouldn't want to stay here forever, but I am enjoying it for a while."

"Good," Dean said as he awkwardly nodded his head.

"Listen, why don't you go back upstairs and take it easy. You were knocked unconscious earlier today."

"I didn't get knocked out," Dean argued. "I was simply dazed that's all."

Sam ignored him. "I'm going to go get the light house turned on."

"It's not completely dark out yet."

"I know, but the snow is falling and the sun will be setting soon enough. I might as well get it done now instead of later."

"I'll come too."

"Are you sure you should?" Sam asked. "What if you get dizzy on the stairs?"

"Sam, I'm fine. You worry too much."

"I just want you to be okay," Sam said. It had shocked Sam to see Dean hurt earlier. Dean was supposed to be invincible. Dean never got hurt.

"And I am," Dean replied. "Let's go turn on the light."

Dean led the way to the stairs and true to his word, he climbed them fine. It only took a moment for them to get the light on once they made it to the top. Both of them stood at the window for a bit and stared out.

"I forgot to tell you!" Sam gasped.

"Tell me what?"

"About Caleb."

"Who's Caleb? Wait…you mean the ghost, Caleb? The one Tina was talking about?"

"Yes, I saw him last night. He talked to me."

"You talked to a ghost?"

"Well, we didn't have a conversation or anything. He was standing kind of where you are and he said he loved it up here. Then he looked at me and told me to lure it up here."

"Lure what up here?"

"He didn't say. But he was very adamant that what ever he was talking about, it had to be lured up here. He said it was the only way."

"Christ, what on earth does that mean?"

Sam was quiet for a minute. "I think he's talking about the other one. You know, the one everyone talked about as being the mean one."

"Okay, I get that, but we've yet to see this 'mean one', and if we're going to lure it up here then that means we need bait, but since we don't know what this 'mean one' is even after we don't know what to use for bait."

"Have you experienced anything odd since we've been here? I mean, I've had contact with Caleb, Mike, and Daniel, but unless the mean one is the one who threw an 8 ball in my back, I haven't had a run in with him yet."

"I think I have," Dean said.

"What? How? What happened?"

Dean took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "I think it has been trying to confuse me."

Sam looked baffled. "I don't understand."

"For the last couple of days there have been these…thoughts…popping into my head, but they're not my thoughts. At least, I don't think they're my thoughts."

"What kind of thoughts?" Sam asked.

"It's not important."

"What do you mean it's not important? It's the first clue we have about this mean ghost. So what are the thoughts?"

"They're angry thoughts."

"You're going to have to tell me more," Sam insisted.

Dean was getting frustrated. How in the hell was he supposed to tell Sam that he was having thoughts about being angry at him, thoughts that Sam was a burden, thoughts of kicking his ass. No way, Sam would be devastated if he actually voiced it out loud.

"I can't tell you more," Dean said, "because I don't understand them myself. I just know that lately I've felt angry when I shouldn't have felt angry. The anger wasn't natural."

"Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" Sam asked.

Again, another question Dean didn't…couldn't…answer. "Because I wasn't sure. I'm still not sure."

Dean turned toward the stairs and started to march down them. He suddenly needed a little space. Unfortunately, Sam was right on his heels following him down.

"I don't understand how you can't be sure. Either something is affecting your thoughts or it isn't. So which is it?"

Dean entered the kitchen and continued right though to the hall.

"Dean?"

"I don't want to talk about this."

"I told you about my visions," Sam retorted.

"Yeah, after keeping them a secret for years!"

"Dean!"

"Damn it, Sam. I don't know! Now stop pestering me! You always want me to have the answers. You always want me to tell you what to do or how it's going to go down. Well sometimes I just don't fucking know! Sometimes I don't have the answers! Sometimes it would be great if you could just take care of yourself!"

Dean looked at Sam and immediately regretted his outburst. Sam was crushed. His brother actually looked as if he were about to be sick.

"Sam…I'm…I didn't…shit."

"No, it's okay," Sam choked out. He cleared his throat and continued. "You're right. I do rely on you too much. I'm sorry. Um, I'm…I think I'm gonna go and read for a while. You…you can watch that movie if you want. I'll probably watch it later."

"Sam, wait!" but it was too late. Sam was already dashing up the stairs. Dean watched Sam go into the single bedroom he had selected on the first night and close the door. Dean sat down hard on the stairs and put his head in his hands.

What the hell had just happened? Why did he say those horrible things to Sam? Especially since he didn't mean it! The truth was he liked taking care of Sam. Besides hunting the only other thing Dean truly knew how to do was be a big brother. Sam was his responsibility and he took it very seriously. He had to fix this. He stood up and climbed the stairs two at a time.

"Sam!" he called and knocked on the door. "Sam!"

"I'm busy," Sam called through the door.

"Sam, I'm sorry," Dean said. "This is what I was talking about. Something has been making me angry for no reason. I didn't mean what I said and you know that."

"Okay, it's all right. You know what, let's talk about it later."

"Sam, come on, open the door. Please!"

"If you don't mind, I just want to be alone for a while," Sam replied.

A new surge of anger welled up in Dean. "Sam, don't be a baby! Open the door. Let's talk about this."

This time Sam didn't even bother to reply. "Damn it!" Dean growled and punched the wall with his fist. He drew his hand back immediately and quickly checked his knuckles to see if he had broken any of them. They were sore but they were all right.

They had been having such a nice time. Why did this have to happen? Something was making him act this way. He needed to find out what this 'mean' ghost wanted and he needed to get rid of it. He wouldn't let this thing ruin the bond he had with his baby brother. Sam was too important to him to risk losing him again.


	9. Answers

Chapter 9: Answers

Sam sat on the side of the bed and wiped furiously at the tears in his eyes. He tried to squelch the angry words in his head. The ones the shape shifter had said to him mixed in with the cruel ones Dean had just spoken. Sam had always known he was a burden to Dean, but hearing the words actually come out of Dean's mouth tore at his heart. He didn't mean to be a burden; he just wasn't as good at this as Dean was. He never had been. His heart wasn't in it. Still, he would have to do better. He would have to try harder to not get in trouble or have Dean have to come save him. Dean needed a partner who was an equal, not one who needed help blowing his nose.

He saw the stack of books sitting in the corner. He hadn't bothered reading any of them since he got them that first day. At the very least Sam should be doing his fair share of the research. He owed it to Dean. He walked over to the pile and saw the diary he had found earlier today, when he was in the house resting while Dean was working hard outside. He decided to read that one. An eye witness account might be more helpful than oral stories passed down through history.

He sat back on the canopy bed and turned on the lamp since it was starting to get dark outside. He thought about lighting a fire in the fire place but decided against it. He'd just wrap up in the blanket and keep warm that way while he read.

0000000

Dean was downstairs pacing back and forth. He felt like he was at war with himself. The right side of his brain was arguing with the left side or something. One minute he wanted to go and beg Sam for his forgiveness, the next second he wanted to smack his brother up side the head for being such a drama queen. _Everything you said tonight had been the truth one side said._ Yes, but it was the way you said it, countered the other. _You shouldn't have to coddle him and baby him all the time_. But you've always taken care of Sam. Sam gives you a purpose. You were lost when he was in college. _Still, if it weren't for Sam right now you would be on the road, hunting, fighting the good fight, not playing house_. But Sam was hurt, physically and emotionally and he needed a rest. He needed this chance to be normal. _He's a fucking pussy._ He's loyal and trusting. _So is a dog._

"STOP!" Dean screamed. He ran out of the living room and went to the lighthouse. He didn't know why but he knew he had to go there. Sam's words echoed in his head. 'Lure it to the lighthouse, it's the only way.' He tore through the kitchen and passed through the large wooden door. As soon as he crossed the threshold he felt the conflict in his brain stop. He breathed deeply and climbed the stairs all the way to the top. He collapsed against the light and sat in the floor.

He just sat there, trying to calm his breathing and his racing heart. He felt safe here. Even more, he knew Sam was safe as long as he stayed here. He stared out the window into the distance. He couldn't see very much and every time the light rotated around to his side he was blinded a little by the reflection off the windows. He didn't care though. He was going to stay here until he was sure he was truly in control of himself.

"You did right coming here."

Dean jumped and saw the old man standing there looking out the window. So this was Caleb.

"What's happening here?" Dean asked. "Why do I keep filling with rage?"

"It lives on the rage."

"How do we get rid of it?" Dean almost begged.

"Lure it to the lighthouse."

"How?"

"If your love is strong enough, you will know when the time comes."

"What? What kind of mumbo bullshit is that? Just tell me what to do!"

"Surrender," Caleb said calmly.

"What? If I do that I think...I think I'll..."

"You think you will kill him."

"NO," Dean screamed. "I would never! I don't care how angry this thing makes me! I would never ever hurt him. He's the most important thing in the world to me. I won't lose him. I WON'T!"

"Then surrender to it. Let it fill you. Only then can you fight it, if you're strong enough. Lure it to the lighthouse." Then Caleb was gone and Dean was alone once more.

000000

Sam continued to read the diary of Jessica Barrette. At first it spoke of her love for Jonathon, how excited she was to be marrying him, and how she planned to keep herself busy during the winter as they spent their first year together at the lighthouse. She was so happy, so eager to embrace her new life. He flipped several pages and found an entry that was dated a month later. She admitted that life here was hard, and she got lonely sometimes but Jonathon always found little ways to make her happy and to spoil her. Sam smiled at what were, once, tender moments recorded for over a hundred years.

Sam turned the page and saw a new entry. Jessica talked about how Jonathon rescued two men from the shore. Both were almost frozen and half dead. She and Jonathon spent the entire night tending to them and trying to warm them up. A new entry two days later said that the two men were Harold and Buddy. She didn't give a last name. She said that Buddy was pretty sick, but that Harold seemed to make a full recovery almost over night. Neither man knew how they came to be there or where they came from. They both had a bit of memory loss. Jessica said that Harold frightened her. He looked at her too long and too often. She was sure Jonathon had noticed.

He moved on to the next entry which was dated three days later. She told of how Harold and Buddy had gotten into an argument and that Harold attacked him. If not for Jonathon she was sure Buddy would be dead at that very moment. The next day's entry was written in a sloppy hand. Jessica told the story of how Harold went mad and he attacked Buddy once more. This time he actually snapped Buddy's neck with his bare hands. What were truly terrifying were his eyes as he did so. They had glowed bright red. Jonathon didn't see the glow. He was racing to get his hunting rifle.

Harold then turned on Jessica and chased her. She ran through the house and into the lighthouse. She mentioned how hard it was to run up the stairs while holding up the folds of her long skirt. When she reached the top she turned to see Harold right behind her. She was sure she was going to die. She closed her eyes and accepted her fate but then Jonathon arrived and shot Harold dead.

Sam turned the next page. He saw that the next entry was two weeks later. Jessica said she was afraid of her husband. Ever since he had taken Harold's and Buddy's bodies to the lake and set them adrift he had been different. He was suddenly angry all the time. He yelled at her for no reason and today he had actually struck her across her cheek. She didn't understand how he could suddenly be so cruel when she knew him to be a good and loving man. A week later was the next, and final, entry into the diary.

_On this day I have done the unthinkable. I have killed my husband. He struck me when I burned the supper. I apologized to him but he only grew angrier. Suddenly we went for the ax which was close to the door. He had been chopping earlier. I took hold of his gun and I begged him not to make me do it. Dear Lord in heaven I begged and begged. He wouldn't stop. He still approached me and I did it. I pulled the trigger. God have mercy on both our souls._

Sam couldn't believe what he was reading. This woman had loved Jonathon so much. Then it was like a veil had been lifted from his eyes. Harold, or who ever he really was, he was the dark thing. He liked to go after the weak. He went after Buddy because he was weak. Then he possessed Jonathon because he thought Jessica was weak.

Sam wondered if this was what was happening to Dean. Was something controlling Dean, making him do and say things against his will? Was it coming after Sam because it thought he was weak? He wasn't sure, but he would definitely talk to Dean about it tomorrow.

He should go talk to his brother now, but he wasn't ready to face him yet. He was still to upset over what had been said. He turned on the small television set that was in his room and made him self comfortable for the evening.

000000

Hours had passed. It was night and Dean was exhausted. He was tempted to sleep here in the lighthouse but the thought of sleeping with no pillow, blanket, or bed wasn't appealing.

He was calm now and was sure he could control himself. He quietly made his way down the stairs and back into the house. Upstairs he could hear the tv on in Sam's room. He listened at the door and didn't hear Sam. He got on his knee and looked through the key hole. Sam was asleep in the canopy bed. The light was on as was the tv. Dean stood up and turned the knob. He figured he'd turn off the light and tuck Sam in.

He was shocked to find that Sam had actually locked the door. It really hurt to know Sam had felt the need to lock himself away from Dean. With a heavy heart he went to his room and went to bed.

000000

_"Tom, mom is dead." he cried._

_"It's okay now. I'll take care of everything," Tom said. "Come with me. We have to hurry."_

_Sam let his big brother take his hand and lead the way. He expected Tom to take him back to the house, but Tom led the down the path that went to the shore._

_"Tom, where are we going?" _

_"Don't worry, Danny. Trust me."_

_"Okay," Sam replied, not even questioning why he was being called Danny. He looked at Tom and saw that he was starting to change, to look different. Suddenly he was no longer looking at a 13 year old Tom. The person holding his hand was a 13 year old Dean. Some of the fear Sam had been feeling began to fade. Dean was here. He was safe now. Dean would never let anything bad happen to him. He looked up at his brother and smiled. Dean smiled back down at him, all the while leading him to the shore._

_Finally Dean and Sammy came to the end of the path and were at the snow covered beach. The edge of the lake was frozen but the ice only extended a few feet into the water._

_"It's time, Sammy," Dean said._

_Sam looked up at Dean with innocent and trusting eyes. "Time for what?"_

_"Time to die." Dean's eyes glowed red and he was suddenly lifting Sam up off the ground. Sam didn't understand but Dean's eyes scared him and he began to cry._

_"Dean, put me down," Sam begged and kicked his feet at Dean's legs. Usually he was good at squirming out of Dean's arms but today Dean's grip was so tight. _

_Dean carried Sam to the edge of the ice and then tossed him into the frigid water. Sam tried to swim but his legs and arms were so small and the water so cold. His skin burned and prickled like a thousand needles were stabbing him. His heavy coat saturated and became so heavy._

_"Dean! Dean! Help me!" Sammy cried. "Dean! Please!" He slipped under the water. He kicked for all he was worth and managed to get his head above the surface once more. He looked to Dean. Why was Dean doing this? Didn't he love him anymore? _

_Dean continued to stand there with his red and glowing eyes. Suddenly Dean jumped into the water too. Sam felt a moment of relief. Dean was going to save him. Dean slipped under the water and didn't return. Where did he go? _

_Sam's limbs were growing so tired. He couldn't stay above water any longer. He slipped under once more. He saw Dean floating in the water. His body was so lifeless but his eyes still glowed red. Sam's body screamed for air but there was none to be had. Suddenly he opened his mouth but it filled with water. The last thing he saw before everything went black was the red fade from his brother's eyes._

0000000

Dean was awakened by cries for help coming from Sam's room. As always he leaped from his bed and ran to Sam's door. He grabbed the knob but the damn thing was still locked.

"SAM! SAMMY!" Dean pounded on the door violently. "SAMMY! What's happening? Are you okay! SAM!"

Dean heard the lock being turned and he stepped back. The door opened and a terrified looking Sam stepped into view.

"Dean." The word was spoken almost like a prayer. "Dean...I know what happened." Sam voice was trembling and his body was covered in a cold sweat. "I saw it."

Dean led Sam to the room they shared and had him sit down.

"Tell me about your dream. Tell me everything," Dean ordered. Sam did. He told him about Danny and Tom, and how they morphed into them, but they were still children, and about the lake, and the red eyes, and about drowning and Dean's suicide. He told him everything in a hesitant and nervous voice.

"Dean, it was awful. It used Danny's love for Tom to lure him to his death. This thing, it preys on the weak. It turns one person against the other. Jessica's diary told how Harold went after Buddy, and then how Jonathon went after her."

"What diary?" Dean asked.

"The one I found in the attic. I read the whole thing. It possessed her husband and she had to kill him to save herself. Dean, this thing, it's going to try to get you to kill me."

"NO!" Dean grabbed Sam by the shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. "That is not going to happen. I'd kill myself before I would allow myself to hurt you."

"Is that supposed to be comforting?" Sam asked. "We need to get rid of this thing before either one of us gets hurt."

"What do you suggest?" Dean asked.

"An exorcism."

"Sam, one usually performs an exorcism on a person. Who are we supposed to exorcise?"

"I was thinking we should try it on the house. This place, it isn't just haunted. It has been possessed by Harold. I don't think he was a real man. He was something else, something powerful. He died here, and his soul...spirit...whatever...is still here, in the walls, the floor, the very foundation itself."

"Fine, we'll do the exorcism, but if it doesn't work. If I'm still getting...angry...then we are out of here. We'll get on the snowmobiles and leave...agreed?"

"Agreed," Sam replied. He'd finally stopped shaking but the images were still so fresh in his mind.

Dean got Sam a drink of water and he crawled into bed. Dean then turned out the light and climbed into his own bed. He lay on his side so he was facing Sam. He wanted to be able to keep and eye on his brother. Sam was also lying on his side facing Dean

"Dean, I'm sorry if I'm holding you back," Sam whispered.

"Sammy, I didn't mean the things I said tonight. I swear. You have no idea how much I wish I could take them back."

"What you said was true though. I'm always messing up. You always have to come and help me out of some jam."

"We help each other. You're to down on yourself. Okay, so you've been in trouble a couple of times, but you've also been there for me. When I was arrested, you called in a 911 so I could escape. You realized that Laurie was wearing the silver necklace binding her to the Hookman. You saved her father from dying. You rescued me from the Wendigo. I was strung up from the ceiling like a side of beef. You had your neck sliced open and were bleeding to death and yet you still managed to burn the book and send the Horseman back to hell. You had the courage to look in the mirror and summon Bloody Mary knowing she would try to kill you. Hell, on that airplane I was totally freaking out. Not you. The plane is in the middle of a nose dive and you're still reciting Latin and banishing the demon. Sam, you aren't a burden to me. You never have been and you never will be."

"I…I never looked at it that way," Sam spoke softly.

"Well, you should," Dean stated. "I've never once felt that you didn't have my back."

The light in the room was very dim, but Dean could see Sam smile. The kid was just now realizing his worth, although Sam would never truly know what he meant to Dean.

0000000

Sam held the rope Dean had given him and stared at him. This seemed wrong, so very wrong.

"Come on, Sam. You have to do this," Dean insisted.

"But we've never done this for an exorcism before," Sam protested.

"That's because I was never the one something was trying to possess."

"But you said yourself that it's never actually possessed you. It's just tried to mess with your head."

"I'm not willing to take the risk," Dean said. "Now tie me to the chair already, and make the knots tight."

"But what if I need your help," Sam asked. "How can you help if you're tied to a chair?"

"Sam, you'll be fine. You can do this without me. You banished the demon on the plane basically all by yourself."

"I guess. Still, why don't you just go to the lighthouse? This thing doesn't seem to like it there. I think it's because Harold was killed up there."

"Sam, stop stalling and just tie me up." Dean was starting to grow frustrated. He understood this was awkward for Sam, but still, he wasn't willing to take the risk that he might hurt Sam if this thing used him to try and stop Sam from doing the exorcism.

Sam finally relented and started with Dean's hands. He tied each hand individually to a separate arm of the chair. Then he ran the rope around Dean's chest and the chair's back.

"Tighter," Dean said. "I can still move a bit."

"If I tie it any tighter I'll cut off your circulation," Sam exclaimed.

"Make it tighter," Dean repeated. He nodded his head in satisfaction when Sam complied. Sam stood up but Dean halted him.

"Feet too," Dean said.

This time Sam didn't even argue. He simply kneeled down and did as Dean asked, securing each foot to a chair leg.

"Happy?" Sam asked.

"Not particularly, but there's no way I can hurt you now. Keep going. We need to act fast."

Sam nodded. He grabbed the salt and made a circle around Dean and then he put the book in his lap so Dean could recite his lines. Dean wasn't performing the exorcism. Dean was actually doing a spell of protection in an attempt to keep the thing from moving in to his body.

"Okay, I'm going to start upstairs," Sam said.

"Be careful," Dean said. "Take the shot gun and some extra rounds of rock salt."

"I will."

"You got the holy water?"

"I've got it. Don't worry," Sam said. "We've done this a million times, right?"

"Right," Dean replied. Only Sammy had never done it completely by himself before. This was killing Dean. Yeah, he was tied up so he wasn't a threat to Sam, but because he was tied up he also couldn't watch Sam's back this time. His kid brother was truly on his own and Dean was terrified.

"Now stay in the hall way and bless each door, but don't go in any of the rooms or it'll shut the door and trap you inside one of them."

"I know," Sam said. His stomach wasn't suffering from a case of butterflies, it felt like he had a herd of elephants inside it jumping on a trampoline and if those elephants didn't stop jumping up and down soon he was going to throw up.

"Okay, I'll be back soon," Sam said.

"You better be because I'm not spending the day in this chair trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey."

The mention of Thanksgiving actually made Sam smile. Dean still didn't know about the surprise he had planned for him. He shook the thought from his head. He couldn't be distracted.

He stood up, placed the strap of the shot gun over his shoulder, picked up his book of Latin prayers, and grabbed the bottle of holy water. He marched up the stairs and started the task of reading the rites of exorcism. Over the top of each door way he would wet his finger with holy water and then use the moisture to make the sign of the cross.

Sam anointed the four bedroom doors first without incident. Then he did the door of the game room. Suddenly the bathroom door slammed itself shut. Sam walked across the hall and made the sign of the cross while reading the prayer out loud.

A noise from the game room caught his attention. He looked to see the pool balls suddenly rolling across the floor and entering the hallway. He backed away and moved for the stairs. Suddenly the number two ball leapt from the floor and went airborne, flying straight for his head. Sam dropped quickly and the ball sailed over him and fell down the stairs.

Before he could get up the five ball launched itself and made contact with his thigh. Sam grunted in pain but kept reciting. He tired to stand and run down the stairs but another ball was launched and this one connected with his arm. Again he cried out. He gave up on going down the stairs on his two feet and simply opted to slide down on his rear. He had to get off this floor. It was only a matter of time before one of them made contact with his skull and they were more than hard enough to kill him if that happened.

Sam continued to slide, half falling, down the stairs. He could see Dean stretching his neck trying to see what was happening.

Dean wanted to ask Sam what was happening but he knew to just keep quiet. Sam needed to concentrate. Since Dean couldn't help the best thing he could do was to not interfere.

Once downstairs Sam limped to the kitchen and continued the process of blessing the house and forcing the evil out. Sam moved as quickly as he could since he knew time was against him. He blessed the lighthouse door, the back door, the kitchen door that led to the hallway, all the while reciting Latin.

A wind began to blow through the hall and Sam had to squint his eyes against it. Dean also felt the wind swirling inside the house. They were definitely pissing it off.

"Sam, hurry up!" Dean called, not able to refrain from speaking.

Sam moved from door to door. The wind increased with each step of progress he made. Pictures began to fall off the walls, small statues and knick-knacks fell off tables and shelves. Sam blessed the dinning room door and then he moved to the living room where Dean was. He blessed the hall door and then headed to the front door.

As Sam approached the front door a loud growl was suddenly heard. The entire building shook from the vibrations of it. Sam was stretching his arm up to anoint the last door casing when suddenly the large wooden door swung open with such force that it slammed Sam into the wall and he crumpled to the floor.

"SAM!" Dean cried.

Sam was dazed. His head had connected with the wall and the door knob had made contact with side, but he still had his wits about him. He pulled himself up and continued to say the prayer. He was shouting now in order to be heard over the sound of the wind. The noise inside the house was deafening.

Dean was watching closely but it was hard to see and hear because of the force of the air as it whooshed around. Suddenly he was hit with a strong gust and his chair actually fell over on its back. He tried to get up but he couldn't move at all.

Sam made his way to the door once more, this time anticipating getting hit. Sure enough the door swung wide but he jumped out of the way and quickly made the sign of the cross above the door.

Once again there was a loud growling the reverberated though the house. The wind inside became a mini tornado that violently exited through the front door, slamming the door shut after itself. Sam had dropped to the floor and covered his head with his arms to avoid getting hit with anything.

All at once there was silence. No wind, no growls, no flying objects, just silence. Sam uncovered his head and looked around. The place was a mess but no real damage. He looked at Dean who was still lying on his back tied to the chair and saw Dean smiling at him. Dean's eyes were filled with pride and even though Sam hurt in several places at the moment he felt like he could fly.

"Well don't just lay there. Get over here and untie me!" Dean called.

Sam gingerly stood up and limped over to Dean.

"You're hurt," Dean noticed immediately. "How bad?"

"Not bad. Took a few hits is all," Sam said as he sat in the floor next to Dean and started to untie him.

With the chair on its back it was a little difficult to get Dean out but eventually his big brother was loose and he started lifting Sam's shirt checking for injuries.

"Dean, I'm okay, really."

Dean was inspecting the spot where the door knob had connected with Sam's side. Dean pressed his thumb and Sam yelped.

"Ou, what the hell are you doing?" Sam gasped.

"Trying to figure out how hurt you are. You're going to have a hell of a bruise here. Let me see your leg."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not taking my pants off. I got hit in the leg with a pool ball. It's not a big deal."

"You need to soak in the tub later. You're going to settle sore."

"I will," Sam said.

"You did it," Dean finally acknowledged. "You got rid of it. I knew you could do it."

"You were terrified," Sam stated.

"No I wasn't. I never doubted you."

Sam just gave him the look.

"Okay, so maybe I was a tad bit worried, but you did awesome."

"Thanks," Sam said. "I did, didn't I?"

"Yeah, Sammy, you did." Dean reached up and ruffled Sam's hair, which was as close as he was ever going to get to a show of affection, but Sam got the message loud and clear.

**Author's Notes: This is NOT the end. Not by a long shot. The story is really just getting started. Our boys have no idea what is about to come their way. J**


	10. Brother Love and Holidays

Chapter 10: Brotherly Love and Holidays

Author's Notes: I know this is sounding repetitive, but thanks for all the wonderful encouragement that I have received from all of you. This chapter is a little more laid back, but I promise, the 'shit is going to start hitting the fan' in the next one. The next post will probably be up in a couple of days since tomorrow/today is Thanksgiving.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO EVERYONE!

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Sam was in the kitchen setting the turkey out to thaw. It had been six days since the exorcism and everything in the house had been quiet. The first day was a bit tense. For the rest of the day he and Dean had been walking on egg shells waiting for something to happen, but all had been quiet. Together they had cleaned the house and put everything back in its place where it belonged.

That night Sam had slept like a baby. No dreams, no visions, just a deep and restful sleep that had been invigorating. The next day he and Dean had once more removed the snow, this time with out any strange accidents, and together they had even built a snowman complete with a carrot nose and button eyes. Okay, so Sam had made the snowman while Dean "supervised". In the attic Sam had found an old scarf and a floppy hat which now adorned the snowman's head and neck. Luckily there hadn't been any more snow storms since then so they hadn't had to shovel anymore.

Dean teased him about the snowman, but later that day Sam had caught Dean staring out the window smiling at it. The next couple of days they had spent their time watching movies, playing Monopoly or Clue, and Dean had even convinced Sam to train and spar with him a little bit.

Sam had been impressed with himself. After being bested by the shape shifter he had been nervous to spar with Dean, but he had held his own pretty well, although part of him suspected that Dean had been holding back a little.

Now he was reading the recipe for the turkey and he was even going to peel the potatoes and leave them in a bowl of water to have them ready for boiling tomorrow.

"Sammy!" Dean exclaimed as he came busting into the kitchen. "Sam!"

"What?" Sam asked.

"The plow just came through," Dean announced. "We can pack up and leave now." Dean was smiling ear to ear and thought Sam would be happy too, but instead, Sam's face seemed frozen in place, like he had just been given the worst news ever.

"What? What's wrong?" Dean asked. "Did something happen?"

"No, uh, no." Sam turned and put down the potato peeler and the potato that had been in his hands. "Okay, uh, yeah. Great! I guess I'll go and start packing."

"Sam, what's wrong?" Dean asked.

"Nothing," Sam lied. He knew Dean had been anxious to leave. The last two days he had grown a bit restless. Once a job was done he was always ready to leave. The snow had been the only thing keeping him there now that the place was spook free.

"Excuse me," Sam said and walked out of the kitchen.

Dean didn't get it. He thought that after all this time Sam would be ready to go, but instead he looked like a kid who'd just lost his puppy. It was time to go, though. The house was safe now. Their job was done. They needed to get back on the road and keep looking for Dad.

Dean kicked the chair leg lightly with his toes and glanced at the kitchen counter. That's when he saw the frozen turkey sitting on the counter top, and a small pile of potatoes waiting to be peeled. Also on the counter was a frozen pumpkin pie.

Dean's brain started to put two and two together. He looked at the calendar on the wall and suddenly realized the date. It was the day before Thanksgiving and Sam had planned to go all out for the holiday, and now Dean was about to ruin it for him. He sighed and wiped his brow with his hand. Hell, they could stay one more day, he guessed. He hurried up the stairs and walked into their room. Sam was already stuffing things into his duffle.

"You know, I was thinking. We don't have to leave this very minute," Dean said with a shrug. "How about we leave Friday morning? It makes sense. This way we'll have worked two whole weeks each and we'll get paid for both. That's $600 for each of us. Add $1,200 to the left over money from the reward we got and we'll be solvent for a long time. How does that sound?"

Sam's face lit up with an enormous smile. "That sounds great," he replied. He walked out of the room and went back to the kitchen.

Dean smiled. He was feeling pretty good with himself. The truth was Dean was more than ready to get out of here, but Sam was happier than he had seen him in a long time. For the past week he hadn't mentioned Jess even once. He'd been nightmare and vision free, and he was always smiling or joking about something. For the past week Sam had been the loveable kid Dean remembered from years ago. It had been nice to have back the real Sammy as opposed to the moody and emotional one that had been riding around in the car for the past several months.

Dean walked down the stairs whistling a tune. Maybe they couldn't leave the house today, but the road was open and his baby hadn't been driven in almost two weeks. He hurried back to the kitchen where Sam was once again working.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean called.

"What?"

"We're going to town."

"Dean, I have stuff to do," Sam said.

"Do it later." Dean tossed the potatoes into the bowl of water and put the pumpkin pie back in the freezer.

"Now let's go," Dean literally grabbed Sam by the arm and pulled him towards the front door.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming," Sam laughed. Actually, it would be nice to get out for a while.

The two put on their coats, hats, and gloves and headed out to the shed. Dean pulled open the double doors and ran his hands lovingly over the hood of his car. Sam smiled at Dean's predictable behavior. The two got inside and Dean made a point of revving the engine several times before finally putting it into drive.

Dean was beaming at being able to drive once more. He took the turns carefully since the roads were still slick even though they had been plowed. About forty five minutes later they pulled into town and parked in front of Clara's.

"See, you don't have to cook dinner tonight," Dean said with a smile.

"That's good since I'll be cooking up a ton of food tomorrow," Sam replied.

"I know. I figured it out that you were making Thanksgiving dinner."

"I was hoping to keep it a surprise but I should have known you would have seen me cooking and getting things ready."

They went into the diner and were glad to see that it was actually a nice place and the food smelled really good. They had a seat in a booth and took off their coats and stuff. A middle aged woman came to take their order.

"Hi, what would you like to drink?"

"Two cokes," Dean said as he accepted the menus from her.

"Coming right up."

Sam looked at the menu and was pleased with the selection. He decided to get the roast beef dinner with all the fixings.

The waitress returned and Sam placed his order. Dean, as was his custom, ordered a cheeseburger and fries. Sam just smiled without commenting.

"Hmm, grease," Dean said. "I can't wait! Don't think I haven't noticed that for the last two weeks you've been cooking nothing but healthy food."

"Someone has to get more than just greasy burgers and greasy fries into you," Sam laughed. "Besides, you've been eating everything I've been putting in front of you, without complaint I might add."

"Well, if there's one thing I've learned over the years it's not to look a gift horse in the mouth. If you're willing to cook it, I'm more than willing to eat it."

The two sat in comfortable silence and just looked out the window at the people and cars going by. People were walking around carrying big bags and large packages. They were either buying the final touches for Thanksgiving tomorrow or they were already starting their Christmas shopping.

"We should go to the store after this and get our paychecks," Sam remembered.

"Oh yeah! Wow, I don't think I've ever received one of those before…at least, not honestly."

"Well I hope it's a good experience for you. It's nice to earn money the real way instead of hustling pool and gambling."

"Ah, but you forget, I like hustling pool and gambling, not to mention I'm damn good at it."

Sam just rolled his eyes and gave up. Some things he would never change.

After dinner Sam and Dean walked across the street to the store. They picked up their checks and were surprised to see that even the checks that they were supposed to receive on Friday were already there because of Thanksgiving and the bank being closed. Bob, the manager of the store was nice enough to actually cash them for them and gave them their $1,200 in cash.

"You have to admit," Sam said, "That this is pretty good money for just two weeks work."

"It's only good because we both collected pay and because we get to live at the lighthouse almost for free," Dean said.

"When was the last time you earned $600 from hustling pool?" Sam asked.

"Sam, I've had nights where I've earned a grand after about three hours," Dean told him.

"Fine," Sam replied. "I still think it's nice to earn some honest money."

"Sam lets just agree to disagree on this one, okay."

"Okay."

"I don't see why you're making such a big deal of it anyway. I'm usually the one who gets us money when we need it. Your conscious is clean."

Sam shrugged. Actually, what Dean didn't realize it that it bothered him that Dean felt the need to provide for Sam since Sam wasn't willing to hustle or scam. It was just one more responsibility that Dean had to deal with.

"How about we split up and do a little shopping?" Dean suddenly said. "I wanted to go look at rifles."

"I'll come," Sam said.

"Uh, I may be a while. Why don't you go look at movies or something? Find us something to watch tomorrow night after we have Thanksgiving dinner."

"Okay, if that's what you want," Sam replied and walked off in a different direction.

Dean headed towards small electronics. He needed to get something for Sam and he knew exactly what he wanted. He found the one he was looking for and grabbed it. He hurried to pay for it and then ran out to the car and stuffed it in the trunk under his battle ax. Then he ran back in the store so Sam wouldn't know what he had done.

He saw Sam standing in the checkout lane. He walked up calmly. "So what are you getting?"

"I got _The Shinning_," Sam announced. He knew it was one of Dean's favorites.

"Sweet, I get to watch my man Jack," Dean responded in a rather pathetic immitation.

"Plus, somehow it seemed oddly appropriate considering where we have been living and the job we've been doing."

"Ain't that the truth," Dean smirked.

"What about you? Did you see any rifles you liked?"

"No, there was nothing there that was any better than the guns we already have."

Sam paid for the movies and they finally headed back to the car to head home.

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Back at the house Dean actually helped Sam do some of the prep work for the big dinner. They decided to go ahead and watch the movie after they turned on the lighthouse. That night they had so much fun watching the movie and eating junk food that Dean forgot to listen to the weather report.

Dean was in the process of stuffing a third Twinkie in his mouth when he looked over and saw Sam was asleep. He smiled at how darn cute Sam looked when he was sleeping. He was laying on top the covers hugging a pillow to his chest and his hair was hanging over his eyes.

Dean grabbed the remote and paused the movie so they could continue it tomorrow. He clicked off the light and somehow managed to get Sam under the blanket. Sam rolled on to his side and snuggled down with a sigh.

"Sleep well, Sammy," he whispered and then went to sleep him self.

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The next day Sam was in the kitchen cooking up a storm. The turkey was in the over with about another forty minutes to go and the mashed potatoes were done. He had cooked the box of Stove Top stuffing and it was also sitting on the back of the stove.

Somehow when Jess used to cook all this she managed to time it so that everything was finished at the same time. Sam couldn't figure out how she did that. He was basically making one thing at a time and then figured he and Dean could reheat the food in the microwave when everything was done.

He looked at the timer and saw the pumpkin pie had only ten more minutes to bake before it was done.

He grabbed a tissue and blew his nose. He wasn't feeling all that well. He had been fine last night but today his throat was raw, his head hurt, and his nose was stuffy. For the most part he was trying to ignore it, though. He didn't want anything to spoil his and Dean's first Thanksgiving.

He washed his hands and then opened the tube of crescent rolls. He rolled them up and put them on a cookie sheet. He would have to wait for the pie to finish before he could put the rolls in the over.

"Okay, bro, when is the food going to be done?" Dean asked as he walked in the kitchen. The house smelled so good it was driving him crazy. He had skipped breakfast and lunch cause he wanted to save room for the turkey dinner.

"Give me another hour," Sam answered.

"An hour! Dude, you've been cooking forever."

"Give me a break. This is my first time doing this all by myself."

"Oh all right,"

Sam let out a cough and sniffed his nose.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam replied.

Dean stuck his finger into the pot of mashed potatoes and shoved a blob of potatoes into his mouth.

"Hey! No sampling," Sam insisted.

"Sammy, I'm starving here."

"I don't care. You're just going to have to wait. Go watch the football game or something."

"Fine," Dean grumbled and left the kitchen. As he passed the window he noticed that it had started snowing lightly. He didn't think much of it, though. The sky was pretty light out and the flakes were small.

He went upstairs into the game room. He wasn't in the mood to watch football. He would sometimes watch a game if he was in a bar, but otherwise he really didn't watch sports.

He grabbed a pool stick and racked the balls. He might as well practice his hustling while he waited for dinner to finish, and now that the pool table was no longer haunted.

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Sam laid out the placemats and the cloth napkins; he lit the candles and poured wine into the glasses. He had to laugh, it almost looked like a romantic candle lit dinner for two, but obviously it wasn't. He started carrying food out to the table and set the bowls and serving utensils down. He had nuked some of the food in the microwave to make it nice and hot again. The rolls were a little too brown but other wise everything looked awesome.

Sam left the dinning room to call Dean and caught a glimpse outside. The snow was falling incredibly fast. Sam didn't even know it was snowing. He had been too busy and the weather was surprisingly calm considering how fast the snow was falling. There was almost no wind at all.

Sam hoped this would be a short storm with just a couple of inches. Dean would freak if they got snowed in again. There was nothing Sam could do about it now. He stepped to the bottom of the stairs and called Dean to dinner.

Dean came bounding down the stairs and joined Sam. Sam put on a happy face hoping Dean wouldn't look outside.

"God, it smells awesome," Dean said and followed Sam into the dinning room.

Sam wished he could smell more of it. His head was getting more and more congested and it was truly beginning to ache.

Sam waited to see Dean's expression when he saw the meal on the table with the decorations. Dean didn't disappoint him. His face lit up and he looked at Sam.

"You did good, Sammy."

"Thanks," Sam said. "Have a seat. Let's eat before it gets cold."

They had a seat and started loading their plates. For the first few minutes neither said anything, they just savored the good food. Finally Dean spoke up.

"That's it, I'm gonna find a way to put a stove in the Chevy."

"Good luck with that," Sam laughed, glad that he had made Dean happy.

"Pass the butter," Dean asked, and then slather a crescent in it. "More gravy, too."

"Do you remember ever doing this with mom?" Sam asked.

"I have this…vague…memory. I don't know if it was actually Thanksgiving, but I do remember sitting around the table with you and mom and dad, and then grandma and grandpa. I remember it because I was dressed up and my shoes hurt my feet something terrible."

Sam smiled. "I wish…I wish I had some memories of her. I've spent my life hunting her killer but I don't know her."

"She loved you," Dean said. "I remember when you came to the house from the hospital. I was so jealous. Mom was spending all her time with you. There was a rocking chair in your room and she would sit and rock you for hours." Dean got a far off look on his face as he continued.

"Sometimes I would come in your room and wiggle my way onto mom's lap and then I would be sitting on one side and you would be on the other. She had this song she used to sing to us. It was a lullaby of sorts but for the life of me I can't remember the way it went. It would always put you to sleep though. After she died and you would cry I remember singing it too you and just like before you would stop crying, of course mom had a better voice than I did."

"Why are we just now talking about this?" Sam asked.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"It's just that, I know there must have been good times, good memories, but we never talk about it. There's stuff I want to know, but Dad would get frustrated the minute I would start to ask questions, and until recently, I couldn't even talk about this stuff with you."

Dean felt bad for Sam. Sam had never known a mother's love, or a father's kindness. There had been no piggy back rides for Sam, no trips to the circus. Dean had had an incredibly short childhood, but still, he had had five and a half good years. Some of the memories were a blur after so much time had passed, but the ones he still had were wonderful.

"I'm sorry, Sam. You're right, you deserved to know. I guess for so long it was just hard to talk about it, especially since Dad never wanted to talk about the past. Somehow it became easier to just live in the moment, particularly when it might be your last considering our line of work."

"That was another thing I never understood," Sam said. "I know Dad loved us, and everything he did was to keep us safe, but Jesus Christ, when I think about the things he had us doing, it blows my mind. I swear, sometimes I don't know how either of us lived to see our tenth birthdays."

"Well, that one's easy. I was naturally talented and you had me watching out for you," Dean explained as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

Sam smiled. "Yeah, yeah I did. Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

They went back to eating and stopped talking about the past before either of them had the chance to become melancholy. So far it had been a wonderful Thanksgiving and neither of them wanted to spoil it. Soon both of them were stuffed.

"God, I can't believe how much I ate," Sam groaned.

"I ate twice as much as you did," Dean said, adjusting the waist of his pants slightly, which caused Sam to laugh.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just that you looked like Al Bundy for a moment there," Sam chuckled.

"If I'm Al then that makes you Peggy," Dean teased.

"Peggy couldn't cook," Sam pointed out.

"Yeah, your right. With that shaggy hair of yours I guess you look more like the dog, Buck, anyway."

Sam picked up a crescent roll and bounced it off Dean's head.

"I'll give you that one, but if you throw any thing else at my head you'll be wearing this turkey like Monica from friends."

"Since when do you watch Friends?" Sam asked.

"Hey, Jennifer Aniston is a babe!"

"Uh!" Sam moaned as he leaned back to give his stomach more room. "I guess I should start on the dishes." Sam was tired and dreaded the clean-up work.

"I say we dump them in the sink and worry about them in the morning. We can get them done before we leave."

"I think I'll take you up on that idea. I'm beat."

"You're coming down sick, aren't you?" Dean asked. "I can hear it in your voice."

"It's just a little cold," Sam said. "Stuffy nose, nothing more."

Sam stood up and began to collect the dishes and bowls of food. Dean helped to carry items to the kitchen. Sam wrapped the bowls with plastic wrap and put them in the fridge while Dean rinsed off plates.

"I forgot the candles," Sam remembered. He went back in the dinning room and blew them out. He was about to return to the kitchen when he felt someone lightly touch his shoulder. He turned, expecting to see Dean, but he was alone. Quickly he looked around. He waited to see if something else happened but the room was quiet. Had he imagined it? The room wasn't cold. He didn't smell any ozone. He must have imagined it. He shook his head and laughed at himself.

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Several hours later Sam was stretched out across his bed. He was having a hard time getting comfortable. One minute he would be cold so he would pull the blanket over him, the next minute he was burning up so he'd kick the blanket off of him. He had been doing this little wax on wax off pattern for about an hour now.

He wondered where Dean was but he didn't feel like going to find him. He was flipping through the tv channels and stopped when he saw _It's a Charlie Brown Thanksgiving_ was just coming on. His attention was drawn to the window when the wind howled and caused it to rattle. Sam had noticed that the weather was getting progressively worse as the hours ticked by.

He started coughing from the slime that was running from his nasal passages down the back of his throat. He coughed so hard that he actually gagged. He wished he had some type of decongestant to take for his head. Unfortunately the house was void of any medicines. Even their first aid kit only had Tylenol for pain. Dean had some left over Vicadin pills in there from a previous injury that had required a doctor's help, but that wouldn't help him.

He focused his attention back on the tv and listened to Charlie Brown complain about Peppermint Patty to Linus.

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Dean was in the lighthouse turning on the lantern. He had listened to the weather report and was dumbfounded by the ironies of life. He had wanted to leave on Wednesday. He had been totally stoked that they were free again. The road was finally clear after being stuck for almost two weeks, but he had agreed to stay till Friday because Sam had wanted to celebrate the holiday.

Now, a brand new blizzard was hitting them. He estimated that about six inches of snow was already on the ground and the weatherman was reporting that another fourteen to eighteen inches were due to fall by morning.

They had had a window of opportunity and they missed it. Now they would probably be stuck here for another week, possibly even two! There would be no way the car could drive through twenty or more inches of snow. Dean wasn't just frustrated, he was actually angry. Sometimes life just really sucked and this was one of those moments.

He stood at the window watching the snow fall, swearing under his breath. Finally he turned and went back down the stairs. Looking out the window was depressing him.

In the kitchen he grabbed a piece of pumpkin pie and put a spoonful of Cool Whip on top of it. He headed up to his room.

'_I hope Sammy enjoyed his freaking meal,'_ Dean thought. '_Now we're trapped once more because Sam had wanted to pretend to be normal for another day!' _Dean entered the bedroom and saw Sam lying on his bed.

"I just got the weather report," Dean announced.

"And?"

"And…we are now stuck here…again! Another fucking blizzard is pouring down on us. They're predicting almost two feet of snow by morning. There's no way we can get out of here without getting the car stuck somewhere."

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam said sincerely. "I never dreamed that staying two more days would have led to this."

"Oh come on, Sam. You love this," Dean bitched. "You probably wouldn't care if we did stay here until spring."

"Dean, I swear, I never meant for us to get stuck here again. I promise, as soon as the plow comes through again we're out of here."

"Damn straight we are," Dean stated.

Sam broke into a coughing fit. He really wasn't feeling well but he didn't want to make a big deal out of it. Dean was no longer in a good mood.

Dean sized up his brother. You didn't have to be a doctor or a rocket scientist to figure out that Sam was coming down sick, really sick. His color was off, his eyes were grayish, and his nose was red. Add in the nasally voice and the coughing and yeah, Sam was officially sick. '_Great, not only are we stuck here again, but now I'm going to have to play nurse maid for a sick little brother.'_

Dean was genuinely frustrated by the circumstances, which was why he didn't even realize that he was probably a little angrier than he should be.


	11. So Cold

Chapter 11:

Dean awoke the next morning with a jolt. He wasn't sure what had awakened him but then he heard Sam's deep wracking coughs and he knew. He climbed out of bed and walked over to Sam who was huddled under his covers. Sam was shivering and sweating at the same time.

"Sammy," Dean gasped as he placed his hand on his brother's forehead. Oh shit, Sam was burning up.

"D…Dean…I don't feel…so well," Sam sputtered and immediately started coughing again.

"Sam we have to lower your fever," Dean said. "I'm going to go get you some Tylenol and run a bath of cool water."

"Just the pills," Sam said. "No bath."

"Sam," Dean started.

"Dean, please," Sam begged.

"Okay, fine, but if your fever doesn't break then I'll carry you to the tub."

Sam just nodded his head with his eyes closed.

Dean grabbed the first aid kit in the bathroom and dug through it till he found the pills. They had absolutely no cold medicine. He searched the cabinets in the bathroom hoping to find something left over from previous people but there was nothing.

He grabbed a glass of water from the bathroom and hurried back to Sam. Dean pulled Sam into a sitting position and offered the meds and water to Sam. Sam swallowed them down and dropped back onto the bed.

"Sit up," Dean ordered.

"What?"

"Sit up." Once more Dean pulled Sam up and then he placed his ear to Sam's back.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam asked.

"I'm listening to your lungs. Bro, they don't sound so good."

"It hurts to breath," Sam admitted. "My throat is on fire."

"Okay, you just stay in bed," Dean told him. "I'll go and get you some breakfast."

"Not hungry," Sam replied.

"You need to eat something," Dean told him. "You have to keep your strength up."

Sam knew he was right. "Toast…just some toast."

"Fine," Dean said.

He went downstairs and into the kitchen and pulled out the loaf of bread only to find that it was covered in mold. "Great," Dean complained. "Now what?" He remembered the rolls from yesterday's dinner. He went in the fridge and grabbed two of them and warmed them in the microwave. Then he put some butter and strawberry jam on them. The last thing he did was pour Sam a cup of coffee.

Back upstairs he found Sam the same way he had left him. Dean put the food on the table and Sam sat up. Dean positioned Sam's pillows so Sam could sit up in bed and eat.

"There was no toast but I got you the next best thing," he said.

"Thanks," Sam replied. He took the plate from Dean and the rolls looked really good even though he had no appetite at all.

Dean turned on the tv and the news was on. There stood the weatherman talking about the newly fallen twenty-six inches of snow and how this was the snowiest November in Michigan history for the top of the mitten. The weatherman recommended people stay inside since there would be below zero wind chills outside.

Dean sighed. This isn't what he wanted to hear. He needed to get out of this place, although one look at Sam and it was really evident that even if the roads were open Sam couldn't go anywhere.

Dean flipped the channel and found some Lifetime movie playing and passed the remote to Sam. Then he built up the fire in the fireplace.

"Okay, you finish your breakfast and get some rest. I'm gonna go outside and see if I can tackle the driveway."

"Dean, maybe you should stay inside. You heard the weatherman. It's too cold outside."

"I'll put on some extra clothes. The job has to get done. I really have no intentions of staying here till Easter. If another storm comes before that mess is cleaned up we really will be fucked."

"I'm sorry," Sam said. "We should have left Wednesday."

Dean was tempted to agree with him but Sam looked miserable. "Well, whatever, we're here so we may as well make the best of it. On the bright side, if you had to be sick at least you're in a warm bed." Dean knew from first hand experience that being sick on the road was awful.

"Just make sure you come in and warn up when you get cold. You wouldn't want to ruin your face by getting frost bite on your nose and then have some doctor cut it off."

"Dude, that's truly gross," Dean grimaced.

"Exactly, so take lots of breaks." Sam would have sounded more authoritative if his teeth would stop chattering

Dean laughed. "Okay, I get your point. Now gets some rest. I'll be up later." He handed Sam the remote and grabbed a bunch of his clothes and headed for the bathroom to get dressed. He skipped the shower since he knew he'd be covered in sweat by the time he finished and would just need another one anyway.

Once he was dressed in so many layers of clothes he could barely put his arms down he headed outside with the snow blower. They had left it on the back porch instead of in the shed. The cold wind brought tears to his eyes as it blew across them and in a matter of seconds his nose was also running from the cold. He wrapped his scarf tighter around his face and got to work. He cleaned a path from the door to the driveway first and then proceeded to cut a path just wide enough for the car to pass through. He didn't worry about the front of the house or the sidewalk. Screw it, he figured. God he hated snow.

He was less than halfway through when he had to go inside and warm up a bit. He had a seat at the kitchen table with a large mug of coffee. Dean was worried about Sam. They had no medicine and he doubted Sam would be able to ride a snowmobile all the way to town to see a doctor as sick as he was. He would fall off of it before they were even half way there.

That meant if Sam got worse they would have to use the radio and call for emergency help. Then again, maybe he could take one of the snowmobiles and run to town to get medicine. He would just have to wait and see how Sam's condition progressed. Damn it, why did Sam have to get sick? For that matter, why did the freaking snow have to come? Why couldn't anything ever just be simple!

Finally he was warm enough to go back outside and get to work once more.

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Sam lay in bed freezing. He had been shivering for a while and actually looked forward to having the fever return for a bit just so he could feel warm. This was all his fault. If they had left on Wednesday they would be off the island and on the mainland. He would be able to get some medicine, and Dean wouldn't be out in the snow busting his ass again. All he had wanted was to celebrate a real Thanksgiving with his brother. Actually, they had had a nice dinner. Sam couldn't regret it. He just wished things hadn't taken a turn for the worse so soon after.

Sam was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard whispering.

"Dean? Is that you?"

The whispering continued but Sam couldn't make out the words at all. It was almost like a white noise. He grabbed the remote and turned off the tv. The whispering stopped. He listened intently for another minute. It must have been the tv making the noise.

He decided to leave the tv turned off and rolled over onto his side to try and get some more sleep. When the temperature dropped in the room he just assumed he was cold because he was sick.

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Dean was just about finished with the driveway. He'd been working for two and a half hours now on and off. Sam had been right about taking breaks. He was freezing his nuts off. At least now he was finished. He decided to put the snow blower back in the shed. He opened the side door and pushed it in and set it against the wall.

Dean was about to walk out when something slammed into his body like a Mack truck. He hit the wall of the shed and crumpled to the floor.

"What the?" He jumped to his feet and then screamed in pain as something forced its way into his head.

"NOOO!" he cried as more pain swelled and throbbed inside his skull. He tried to fight it but he couldn't. His eyes glowed red. A sinister smile crossed his face.

'Finally, you are mine.' The words weren't spoken out loud, but Dean could hear them inside his own head. 'I have waited a long time to take you. You are stronger than the rest. Your love and protectiveness of the other is ingrained deep in you, the same is true of your brother, but it is no matter. It is done now. He is weak, and without his help you can't fight me off by yourself. I will add both of you to my collection.'

'I won't do your bidding,' Dean was all but shouting in his head. 'I won't hurt Sam.'

'You don't have a choice.'

Dean walked to the side of the shed and grabbed the ax hanging on the wall. He stepped over to the snowmobiles and proceeded to destroy the vehicles. Dean was desperate to stop himself from doing it but the thing inside him was using his body like a puppet.

'It is pointless to fight me.'

'I managed to fight you off before and I will again.'

'Foolish mortal. You have no idea of whom or what I am. I have roamed this earth for centuries, jumping from one body to another, amusing myself and feeding off the rage of others. Did you really think your prayers and your holy water could kill me? Did you think a circle of salt stronger than I?'

'It must have done something because you haven't been back in the house for a week.'

'Oh, I have been there, but you pathetic love and happiness prevented me from having my way. Until yesterday that is. The minute you became angry at Sam you opened the door for my return. You have such a wonderful temper,' it laughed. 'Let's see just how angry you can get.'

Dean dropped the ax and headed back for the house. He entered the kitchen not bothering to close the door behind him. He entered the small office and picked up the radio. He lifted it over his head and smashed it to the floor.

Dean realized what it was doing. It was making sure they had no way to escape or call for help. He realized something else too. The only reason to take the time and destroy the radio and the snow mobiles was because it was afraid they might be able to fight it off after all. That little bit of knowledge gave Dean hope. Whatever it was that possessed his body it wasn't invincible.

Finally his body turned and headed for the stairs. He realized what was about to happen.

'NO! I won't let you hurt Sam.'

'I'm not going to hurt Sam. You are. It will be your hands that will strip the life from your beloved younger brother. He will cry and beg and you will watch as the light fades from his eyes.'

Dean tried to scream out a warning to Sam to run but the entity inside him kept his lips tightly shut. Dean reached the top of the stairs and entered the game room. He watched as his hand lifted up the black 8 ball from the pool table. He realized that Sam didn't have a nightmare that night. It had been a vision after all, a vision that would lead to Sam's death.

Dean walked into the bedroom. Sam was sleeping soundly, a slight wheezing noise coming from his mouth told that his chest was growing more infected.

Dean shoved Sam hard on the shoulder jerking him awake.

"Dean?" Sam exclaimed. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes, you're what's wrong," Dean's mouth said.

"What? I don't understand." Sam wiped the sleep from his eyes.

"Damn it Sammy, I'm sick of taking care of your ass. I swear you're useless. Four years of college and you're still as stupid as you ever were!"

The words were as sharp and painful as any knife. Sam instantly felt his emotions rise.

"It wasn't my fault," he defended. "I didn't mean for us to get stuck here again and I didn't plan on getting sick."

"It is your fault! It's always your fault! Well I'm sick of it! Do you hear me? I'm sick of it and I'm sick of you!"

Sam had a moment of déjà vu and he suddenly realized what was happening. His nightmare was about to come true.

Dean had had his arm behind his back but was now swinging it forward. The next thing Sam knew Dean had the black 8 ball in his fist and he swung it toward Sam's head. The hard object struck Sam in the temple and he fell back on the bed. The blow had been hard but not enough to knock him out, though it hurt like hell.

"No!" Sam called. He couldn't believe Dean had hurt him. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. He tried to move away from Dean but the injury and the illness was making his body slow and lethargic.

"Dean, fight it. You have to fight it," Sam begged as he fell out of his bed and began to crawl across the floor.

Dean raised his hand with the 8 ball once more and swung down as hard as he could towards Sam's head.

"NOOOO!" Sam cried. He managed to duck away a bit but still got grazed by the ball on the side of his head. Sam collapsed to the floor barely holding on to consciousness.

Dean dropped the 8 ball to the floor with a loud thud. Sam watched as it slowly rolled away from him. Dean then reached down and grabbed Sam and hoisted him up into his arms and tossed Sam over his shoulder.

Sam grunted from the pain as his head swung through the air. Sam hung limply over Dean's shoulder and felt rather helpless and dazed as Dean carried him down the stairs and out of the house through the back door.

"Dean," Sam whispered. "Dean, fight it."

"There's no point begging, little brother. There is no hope for you now."

Sam was so cold. Dean was still wearing all his layers of clothes. All Sam had on was sweat pants, a t-shirt, and socks. His body began to tremble and shake from the cold.

"Dean, after it kills me it will kill you too. You have to fight it," Sam said through chattering teeth. "It made Tom commit suicide."

Sam felt Dean's body jerk. "How do you know that?"

"I just do," Sam said, even though he knew he wasn't talking to Dean but the thing that was currently in control of his body.

"You have the sight," it suddenly said. "No wonder you were able to resist me for so long. However, you are weak now. You can't stop me."

Sam tried to kick and hit and squirm his way out of Dean's grasp but Dean just held him tighter. All the blood was rushing to Sam's head since he was hanging upside down and it was only making him hurt worse. It was also making it difficult for him to think.

Inside his own head Dean was trying to fight the monster in him. Sam was going to freeze to death if he didn't get him back in the house.

'Stop this you bastard,' Dean shouted.

'That's right, scream at me, beg me, get mad,' it taunted.

'I'll kill you,' Dean told it, which caused it to laugh with joy. The angrier Dean got at it the weaker he felt himself becoming.

They trudged though the snow. In some places it was thigh deep on Dean. Many times Sam's head and hands would be dragging though the snow.

Dean realized that Sam was growing quieter and quieter. The severe cold was starting to affect him. Sam was seriously going to die if he didn't find a way to fight this thing.

They cleared the trees and Dean realized they were standing on the shore. The thick layer of ice extended a few feet from land over the water. He walked onto the ice and stood at the edge of the water as it lapped against the ice.

Dean watched in horror as his own arms tossed Sam into the lake.


	12. I Love You

Chapter 12: I Love You

Author's Note: I can't believe that just a few days ago I was excited to break 100. The fact that I'm well past 200 and counting doesn't even seem real to me. Sorry if I ticked you guys off with that cliff hanger, but you have to admit, it was a darn good cliff hanger if I do say so myself! ;-)

Enjoy the next installment, and thanks for all the Happy Thanksgiving wishes sent my way.

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Sam's body literally contorted in on itself as the frigid water made contact with his skin. His flesh burned from an icy fire. He struggled to right himself and get his head above water but his limbs weren't being very cooperative.

Finally, he found his sense of direction and raised his head above the surface. He found that he could actually stand in place and keep his head above water. He looked up and saw Dean standing on the ice looking down at him. Dean's eyes glowed red and Sam struggled not to scream at the horrible image before him.

"Beg for your life and perhaps I will spare you," Dean said.

Sam knew it was a lie. He had seen in his visions the death of little Danny and his brother Tom. Sam was going to die. He was going to freeze to death in this lake. Already his lips were turning blue and his body was being racked by tremors and shakes in an attempt to warm itself.

"D…Dean…I…lo…love…you," Sam ground out through teeth chattering so hard that they had almost locked in place. If he was going to die he was going to use his last few minutes to tell Dean what he had wanted to tell him for years, but Winchester pride never allowed it. Even thought the thing was controlling Dean's body he knew Dean was in there and could hear him. "I…lo…love…you…bro…ther."

"NO!" Dean voice yelled. "Yell! Beg for your life!"

"No…I…wi…will…die…for…h…him."

Dean felt the monster in him losing control. Of course, it fed off the rage, the fear, but Sam wasn't feeding it. Sam was denying it. Dean began to chant in his head over and over, 'I love you, Sammy. I love you, Sammy."

'No, stop it you fool. Stop it.'

'I love you, Sammy. I love you, Sammy.'

Dean gasped when he realized he could move his body. He was in control.

"Sam!" Dean cried and dropped to his knees. Sam was just about to surrender and slip under the water when Dean grabbed the back of his shirt and with strength he never even knew he possessed he pulled Sam from the water in one swift motion and was dragging him back to the shore.

"Sammy! Sammy, wake up," Dean ordered. Dean was scared. Sam's body was jerking and he was so blue. Hypothermia would be setting in any second if it wasn't already.

Dean removed his heavy coat and wrapped it around Sam. He then put his hat on top of Sam's wet hair to protect him from the wind.

"Sammy, I need your help, little brother." Dean struggled to slide Sam's arms into the sleeves of the coat and then get it zipped. Dean pulled his brother in a hug and held him tight. "Sam, wake up," Dean cried.

"D…Dean," Sam mumbled. "Cold…so cold."

"I know you are but you have to help me." Sam was still unresponsive. His head rolled to the side. Dean was getting frustrated. Sam's body was shutting down. Dean looked up at the lighthouse and there, up by the railings was Caleb. Caleb was actually waving at him.

Dean felt a tingling sensation going up his scalp, almost like a rubber band rolling up the back of his head. Then his head began to ache once more. It was trying to reclaim control. 'Oh god, give me strength,' Dean prayed. He suddenly knew what he had to do.

Dean began to slap at Sam's face. "Sam! SAM! Wake up! Now!" He gave Sam another hard slap.

Sam's eyes popped open with a start.

"That's it. Come on, Sam, you have to get up," Dean told him.

"Dean?" Sam asked.

"Sam, get up off your ass and help me!" Dean demanded harshly.

Sam's brows knitted together and Dean could see he was trying to find the energy in him to help Dean. Guilt could be a great motivating factor. Sam would do anything not to let Dean down.

"Sam, I need you to run to Caleb," Dean told him. "Do it now. Go to Caleb." Dean hoped Sam understood what Dean was telling him. He didn't want to say to much more for fear of giving his plan away to the bastard trying to kill them.

"Come with me," Sam said.

"I'll be there soon," Dean replied and gave Sam a wink. "Now go, go as fast as you can."

Sam stood up with help from Dean and began to move. He knew Dean wanted him to run, but he couldn't. He was so cold. Some parts of his body were completely numb, others burned with a white hot intensity that threatened to overwhelm his senses.

Moving at least made his blood circulate and after a bit he was able to move a little quicker, but if that thing suddenly possessed Dean again it would overtake Sam easily enough.

Dean stayed by the water trying to make sure Sam had enough time. He prayed Sam would actually make it back to the lighthouse and not collapse half way there. He watched the minute hand on his watch go around and around. God he was cold, but at least he was dry. Sam was soaking wet and had no shoes on. He knew that even if he managed to save Sammy he still might die from exposure if he couldn't get him warmed up soon enough.

Finally, it had been fifteen minutes. Fifteen long and agonizing minutes. Dean looked up to the sky and shouted.

"Hey, you want me? Well here I am. Come get me you bastard. You think your so big and tuff. Well, fuck you. You didn't get Sam. I saved him. You weren't strong enough to take us. We beat you."

For the second time that day Dean found himself being hit by a mighty force. He hit the ground as the entity forced its way back into his head.

'You haven't won yet. You and your brother are trapped here. You have no where to go.'

'Wanna bet! I'm going to go get Sam and get him into some warm clothes and then we are going to walk the hell out of here.'

'No you won't!'

"Ahhhh," Dean screamed from the agony caused by having his mind and body once more taken over. He hoped Caleb knew what the hell he was talking about because Dean had done what he was told. He had surrendered to it.

'Now, let's go find your brother.'

They marched back towards the house at a quick pace, following the tracks Sam had made.

'Did you really think I would lose?' it asked.

'I think Sam is going to kick your ass,' Dean replied.

'Your brother will be lucky to still be alive once we reach the house. I can feel his life force slipping from him even now. He is weak. He is dying. He is afraid.'

'No, Sam will be all right,' Dean insisted.

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Sam let out a sob of relief when the house came into view. He was almost there. So close. The house would be warm. He just had to walk a little bit farther, but oh god it was so hard. The snow was so deep and his body hurt everywhere.

Sam made it to the driveway. Since it was clear of snow it made it easier for him to move. He followed the clear path to the back of the house and stumbled into the kitchen and fell to the floor. He was so tired. His body was begging to go to sleep but he knew if he did that he would die. He needed to keep his limbs moving, needed to keep the blood circulating, or else he would go into shock or succumb to hypothermia.

He closed the kitchen door and pulled himself to a crawling position. He used a chair at the kitchen table as a crutch to pull himself into a standing position. With a great amount of effort he walked to the wooden door that opened to the light house.

He looked at the stairs and almost wept. In his condition climbing those stairs would be like climbing Mount Everest.

"You…have…to do…it," Sam told himself. "Dean is…counting…on you." Like a dog walking on all fours Sam began to make his way towards the top.

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Dean's body was quickly closing the gap between him and Sam. The monster inside of him wanted Sam. It was personal at this point. Sam was the first person to ever find his weakness. The boy had to die if for no other reason.

'When I get to your brother I will tear him apart. I will cut his limbs from his body. I will bash his skull in so that his face will no longer be recognizable.'

'You're welcome to try,' Dean said calmly, trying desperately to control his temper. Sam had showed him the secret to fighting this thing. It fed off the anger, the sorrow, and the pain. Dean needed to stay just angry enough so that it thought it was in charge, but he knew the secret to throwing it out of his body any time he wanted to. All he had to do was think about how much he loved his baby brother, how important Sam was to him, and he could get his body back and be in control. This thing would never hurt Sam again.

But, Dean needed to do more than kick it out of his body. He needed to kill it for good, and he was pretty sure he knew how to do that. Dean said a silent prayer when he saw the house come into view and realized that they hadn't come across Sam along the way. Sam had made it to the house.

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Sam was over half way to the top of the stairs. He was still walking on all fours pulling him self along. He mind was wandering and it almost felt as if he weren't actually in his body anymore, like he was watching himself through one of his dreams or visions.

Sam jolted when he heard the door downstairs get kicked in. Dean, or the thing inside of Dean, was here. Sam didn't know what to do. He was in no condition to fight. He was moving on pure adrenaline because Dean needed him to move, but even that was dwindling away.

"OH SAMMY!" a twisted version of Dean's smooth voice drifted up to his ears.

"Dean," Sam whispered.

"Lure it to the lighthouse."

Sam looked up and saw Caleb standing at the top of the stairs.

"Lure it to the lighthouse," he repeated.

Sam nodded and called out. "Dean! Dean, help me!"

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In the kitchen the monster stopped.

"Dean! Dean, help me!"

"Fool," it laughed.

'Leave him alone,' Dean shouted in fake anger. He needed this thing to take the bait.

"Dean, please!"

It walked over to the doorway that led to the light house. Green eyes looked inside and saw there, on the stairs, was a haggard looking young man struggling to make it to the top. He swayed precariously as he climbed.

For the first time it began to sense something was amiss. It hesitated at the door and waited.

'Ha! You can't get him!' Dean laughed. 'He's safe. You're too chicken!'

'He can not stay up there forever. There is no heat, no food, and no water. He will die, or he will come down, and then he will die.'

'Sam will never come down,' Dean spat. 'He would rather simply go to sleep up there and die peacefully than come down here so you can torture him. You lost. He escaped you.'

"NO!"

It took a tentative step inside and then stopped once more.

Dean knew this was his chance. He needed to get control, but at the same time not throw it out of his body completely.

'Sammy, I will always protect you,' Dean thought. 'I am so lucky to have a brother like you. You're the best.'

"Shut up, human."

Dean knew it was working. It was a tug of war, but he could move with a great deal of effort. Dean reached back and pulled the door to the lighthouse closed, sealing all three of them inside.

'No.'

Dean felt it trying to flee and now he was actually making an effort to not let it escape.

"You're not going anywhere!" Dean insisted. He took off running up the stairs.

Sam had just cleared the top when he heard Dean's feet pounding up the stairs behind him. He dropped to the floor and lay there. He couldn't go any farther. His body was spent. He could feel his heart beating slower and slower. He was having difficulty drawing a breath into his lungs. His limbs no longer responded to his commands. He was slipping away and there was nothing he could do about it.

Dean charged up the stairs as fast as he could before it managed to break the connection between them. Dean cried out from the pain in his head.

'You can not hurt me,' it said. 'I am eternal.'

Dean didn't reply. He just kept climbing. He felt something running down his face and he realized his nose was bleeding from the pressure building in his head.

Dean made it to the top and gasped when he saw Sam passed out on the floor looking, for all intentions and purposes, very much dead.

'You couldn't save him,' it said. 'You failed. Now you will suffer for the rest of your days seeing the dead face of your brother.'

'Sammy,' Dean screamed. 'Sammy!'

A blinding light appeared in the light house, and it wasn't coming from the lantern. Dean shielded his eyes until it passed. When he looked again he saw dozens of people…spirits…standing in the lighthouse. He understood immediately. These were the spirits of the people it had murdered, manipulated, and destroyed.

Dean scanned the crowd. There were men, women, and even children, but Sam wasn't standing with the other spirits. For a moment no one moved, but then the spirits began to close in around Dean.

"Stay away," his voice suddenly called. "Stay back. You are nothing."

Dean felt himself grabbed and pulled and tugged. Hands clawed at him and he had to admit, he was afraid. Caleb was now standing before him. Caleb reached his hand into Dean's chest and grabbed hold.

"AHHHHH!" Dean screamed. He watched in revulsion as Caleb pulled a black mass from his body and held it in his hand. Dean was allowed to fall to the floor and the spirits now ignored him completely and focused all their attention on the black mass that was squirming wildly in Caleb's hands. Each spirit there began to grab at the mass and pull at it, tearing pieces of it off.

The mass thrashed in pain. Dean watched as little by little the spirits tore it to pieces and then another blinding light flashed inside the lighthouse. The next time Dean opened his eyes the spirits of the dead and the evil thing itself were all gone except for Caleb.

"Thank you," Caleb said. "It is over now." Then his spirit slowly faded from view and all was quiet.

Dean stared at the vacant spot for a moment before turning back to his brother.

"Sam! Sammy?" Dean crawled next to Sam and rolled his brother over gently. Sam was so cold to the touch and his lips were blue. Dean unzipped the coat and put his ear to Sam's chest and listened.

There! It was there! Sam's heart was still beating. Dean watched and could see that Sam was pulling in the shallowest of breaths. He's not dead. He's not dead! But he would be soon if he didn't get him warmed up and fast.

For the second time that day Dean pulled Sam into a fireman's carry. He had to walk down the stairs backwards, almost like climbing down a ladder because Sam's added weight through off his center of balance.

He made it to the kitchen and then moved as fast as he could for someone carrying an additional hundred and sixty pounds or so.

He climbed the stairs and entered the bathroom. As gently as possible he lowered Sam into the tub. He turned on the tap and found a nice and hot temperature. Then he turned on the shower. Hot water began to cascade down on him and Sam. He climbed into the shower too so he could pull off the parka and hat Sam was wrapped up in. Then he took off Sam's freezing cold t-shirt and sweatpants. Dean set the plug in the tub and the hot water collected in the bottom.

"Sam," Dean called as he rubbed furiously at Sam's arms and legs trying to get the circulation moving once more. "Sam, wake up."

Sam didn't give any response that he even knew that Dean was there. His eyes remained closed and he was as limp as a rag doll. Soon the bathroom was full of steam as the hot water continued to rain down on them and raise up higher on the sides of the tub.

Dean put his ear to Sam's chest once more and listened to his brother's heart beat. It was now beating very quickly, almost too quickly Dean noticed.

"Sammy! Please, damn it, open your eyes."

Finally Sam parted his eye lids. He was clearly disoriented and he couldn't focus.

Dean hadn't been ready when Sam screamed out and started thrashing his arms and legs.

"Sammy? What's wrong?"

"AHHH!" Sam cried. He was clawing at his own skin and Dean grabbed his wrists to stop him from hurting himself. "It hurts!" Sam screamed. "It burns! Dean, make it stop! Oh God!"

Dean realized that Sammy was having the sensation return to his limbs and skin. He watched helplessly as Sam continued to cry out in agony.

"Sammy, it will pass, but right now there's nothing to do."

Sam continued to thrash, tears poured down his cheeks and mixed with the water from the shower.

Dean couldn't stand it. He didn't even know what he was doing but he had to do something. He grabbed Sam by the chin and forced his brother to look at him.

"Sam, breathe, okay, breathe. Come on, he, he, he, hoo, hoo, hoo."

Sam stared at him with wide eyes that clearly spoke the words, 'you're crazy' but he did as Dean directed and he copied the breathing pattern Dean had started. It didn't make the pain go away, but it served as a distraction. For the next thirty minutes the two never broke eye contact and continued with their bizarre Lamaze exercise until they were both feeling light headed and faint.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the pain Sam was feeling began to subside. His body had stopped spasming but his muscles still felt tight and stiff.

The tub of water was no longer hot but warm. Dean finally stood up in the tub. He had been squatting the entire time and his knees were about to break. He pulled off his wet shirt and pants.

"Can I just say this is really twisted," Sam whispered through a horse throat. He and his brother were in the tub together both in their boxers. "I think I may be scared for life from this one."

"Better to be scarred than dead," Dean said. "How's the pain?"

"It's almost gone," Sam said. "I'm just tingling in a few places now."

"Good." Dean replied and stepped out of the tub. He yanked off his wet socks and threw them on top of all the other wet clothes. He grabbed a towel and began to dry off.

"Will you be okay by yourself for a minute?" Dean asked. "I need to get some clothes for both of us."

"I'll be fine," Sam replied as he closed his eyes.

"Hey, don't fall asleep!" Dean told him. "Open your eyes." Dean didn't just save him from freezing to death only to have him drown in the tub.

He hurried across the hall and went in their room. He pulled on the sweats he had slept in last night and then a t-shirt. Once he pulled on some socks he started looking for some clothes for Sam. He grabbed several items and went back to the bathroom.

As he expected, Sam was asleep in the tub. Dean reached in and pulled the plug to drain the water. He used a towel to dry his brother's hair and face.

"Sam, I need some help here," Dean told him.

Sam blinked and pulled himself into a sitting position. He groaned from the effort and gladly accepted Dean's help to stand. Even though he was no longer in excruciating pain his limbs were basically useless. He sat on the toilet lid with a thump and Dean proceeded to dry him off before pulling his dry clothes on him.

"Dean, are you okay?" Sam asked.

"Of course I'm okay," Dean said. "You're the one who almost froze to death, remember."

"I'm not talking about that," Sam said. "I mean, when it possessed you, are you okay?"

"Dude, I'm fine. With all due respect I just took a shower with my brother and breathed like a woman about to have a baby for the past half hour. Really, I'm so NOT in the mood to go all emotional now. If this chick flick moment continues for much longer I'm likely to grow a set of tits or something.

Sam couldn't help but smile. Dean was fine. He was still Dean and that was perfect. Dean hoisted Sam up and dragged him to the bedroom. He stopped at the door when he saw the 8 ball lying in the floor. He felt Sam stiffen next to him. Memories and actions flooded both their minds.

Dean cleared his throat and then helped Sam to his bed and laid him down. Then Dean bent down, picked up the 8 ball, opened the window, and pitched it outside. He slammed the window down and went to the fireplace to relight the fire. The room was chilly and Sam was already sick. Dean actually feared how sick Sam would get after the shock his body had just been put threw. Honestly, it was a miracle Sam was still alive. His baby brother had more lives than a cat if you started counting all the close calls he had had.

Soon the fire was blazing and Dean stood up and walked back to Sam. He was asleep. He looked like hell. Dark circles were under his eyes and his lips were chapped and raw. His skin had a gray tinge to it. A harsh wheezing sound could be heard with every breath Sam took.

Sam needed a doctor. He needed medicine. Hell, he probably needed to spend a week in a hospital, but Dean didn't have a way to get Sam any of those things. The radio was gone, the snow mobiles were gone, and if Dean set out walking he would freeze to death out there long before he managed to get Sam any help.

He remembered that that girl, Tina, lived a half a mile away, but a half a mile in three feet or more of snow was really far, and even worse, he didn't know which direction to go. He could start walking only to find he went the wrong way and then have to turn back.

Dean wasn't afraid to die, but he had to think about Sam. If he got lost or froze out there, it would be a death sentence for Sam too. Sam was in no condition to take care of him self.

Dean realized it would be up to him.


	13. Conclusion

Chapter 13: Conclusion

Author's Note: Thanks again to everyone how gave feedback. This is story has been a blast to write but I'm glad it is finally finished! This is one of the longest stories I've ever written. I hadn't planned to make it this long but it just seemed to keep growing and growing.

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Dean sat in the kitchen chair resting his head in his hands. Sam was lying on the mattress in the floor shivering even though he was under two blankets and there were three pots of water boiling on the stove creating a rain forest effect in the room. Dean wiped at the moisture collecting on his face and then dried his hands on his pants.

God he was tired. Sam had been sick now for three days…three very long and grueling days. The first day really hadn't been that bad, and Dean had actually let himself believe that Sam would be fine after some bed rest and chicken soup.

Sam had finally warmed up and he no longer suffered from any numbness or tingling, but he had been weak and tired. Dean had let him sleep away the afternoon and then when Sam woke later that evening he and Sam had played a few hands of poker after a light supper. Then Sam grew tired again and went back to sleep.

The next morning Dean realized the truth. Sam had developed a deep cough; one that took his breath away wracked his body every time it happened. The fever was worse than ever and Sam was in and out of consciousness, sometimes even hallucinating. Dean had been scared to death that pneumonia had set in.

He wasted no time. He dragged a mattress from upstairs down to the kitchen and made a bed for Sam in the floor. Then he got three pots of water boiling to put steam in the air. Next, he used two nails to hang a blanket over the door to make sure the steam couldn't leave the room. Then, somehow, he actually found the strength to carry his brother's enormous dead weight down the stairs and tuck him in his new bed.

In the few times Dean had been forced to carry Sam in the past he had put him in a fireman's carry, but with him being so sick, somehow Dean just couldn't bring himself to do that to Sam, so he carried him in his arms and used the wall to brace himself as he moved through the house.

Dean had also remembered an old trick their father had used on Sammy once when he had been a child and had come down with the croup. Dean slathered mustard all over Sam's chest to help break up the congestion. The smell had been strong and he noticed it did seem to help ease Sam's breathing, even if it did make him smell like a hot dog.

Now three days later Dean was still sitting in the kitchen. He only left when he had to do something in the lighthouse or to gather more fire wood. Every few hours he would make sure to spoon some broth into Sam's mouth and force a little water down his throat. Sam had been asleep, he refused to say unconscious, for the past 32 hours, and Dean was growing ever more concerned.

Dean wasn't exactly known as a praying man. He tended to believe more in the things that he could see, or feel, or smell, or even kill. God had always seemed this elusive far off concept to him. He was a father who had abandoned his people. Sure, every now and then the words 'thank god', or 'oh god' might come tumbling out of his mouth, but it was more of an automatic response than a true belief that God would actually come to their rescue or was looking out for them.

But, for the past two days Dean had been praying...praying to a God that he hoped really existed...and if he did exist he hoped he was actually listening. Several times he had actually made a bargain with the big guy. Just save Sam and he could have Dean instead. Dean wasn't afraid to die. Everyone died. That didn't mean he necessarily wanted to drop dead this second, but he would, if he had to, if it would save his little brother.

Death didn't scare Dean. What frightened Dean Winchester was being left behind. Dean was prepared to go first. Hell, he needed to go first. It was odd, really, isn't that what a parent was supposed to say about their child? Siblings weren't supposed to have that attitude. But then, he and Sam were more than just siblings, at least that's how it was for Dean.

Dean loved his father, and always would, but Dad, well, Dad had been busy...distracted. Not that he wasn't a good father, mind you. John Winchester was a force of nature. He was strong, and skilled, and he fought the good fight saving the world and all that stuff. Sammy might not have appreciated those qualities, but Dean did. Dean understood his father. But, his Dad's work often left him and Sam alone with no one to rely on but each other, and since Dean was four and half years older it often fell on him to take care of Sammy.

For years he had kissed Sam's booboos. He had been the one to comfort Sam during the night when he had a nightmare. He had been the one to make sure Sam got dinner when Dad had to work. He was the one who played ball, or soldiers, or skipped stones with him. Sam was Dean's responsibility, always had been...always would be...period.

Dean looked at his brother still sleeping in the floor. Sam had to get better. He just had to. He climbed from his chair and poured some more hot broth into a cup and grabbed the spoon. He sat on the mattress next to Sam. He didn't have to worry about propping Sam up because Sam already was sitting up. Dean had figured out that Sam could breathe easier when he was vertical so he used a bunch of pillows to keep Sam from falling over.

Dean gently pried Sam's mouth open and placed a spoonful of broth in and used his hand to close his mouth once more.

Sam choked and coughed as the soup went down, but then something wonderful happened. Sam opened his eyes. Dean watched as Sam took a moment to figure out where he was.

"Bro, I am happy to see you," Dean said, trying to mask some of the relief he was feeling.

"What happened?" Sam asked with a hoarse and scratchy voice.

"You've been sick," Dean answered.

"How long?"

"Three days. The last two you've been pretty much unconscious."

Sam blinked several times taking the information in. Dean put another spoonful of broth into Sam's mouth. Sam swallowed it down easier this time since he knew to swallow.

"It's hot in here."

"No shit, Sherlock," Dean joked. "You couldn't breath. I've basically turned the kitchen into a sauna to break up the congestion in your lungs." He spooned in more broth.

Sam stared at him while Dean continued to feed him. If Dean thought it was weird to sit here and feed his brother like a baby he didn't let on. Sam was too tired and weak to make a fuss. He felt drained, the kind of energy loss one can only feel after a long bout with illness.

He looked at his bare chest and saw that he was yellow. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him. After swallowing another sip of broth he asked Dean.

"Why am I yellow?"

"It's mustard."

"Mustard?" Sam's brain was too foggy to make sense of it.

"I remember Dad doing it once. It works like Vicks Vapor rub. It was to help you breathe."

"My breathing was that bad?" Sam asked.

"I thought…" but Dean didn't finish his sentence. He wouldn't put to words the scary things that had crossed his mind. "Yeah, it was that bad."

Even in his groggy state Sam knew what Dean was about to say. He thought Sam might die.

"How do your lungs feel right now?" Dean asked.

"It hurts to breath, but I can do it without to much trouble," Sam told him.

"Good," Dean replied. "I bet from now on you'll look at mustard in a whole new light."

Sam smiled but Dean could see the weariness still in Sam's face. Sam may have reached the turning point, but he would still need several days to get his strength back.

"Listen, why don't you go back to sleep," Dean said. "You're exhausted."

"You need to sleep too," Sam rasped out. "You're dead on your feet."

"Two things wrong with that statement," Dean smirked. "One, I'm not dead, and two, I'm not on my feet." He smiled while he waited for Sam to realize he was sitting on the bed next to Sam.

"Smart ass," Sam finally replied.

"Cool, I don't get to play the smart one in this family too often."

"It wasn't supposed to be a compliment," Sam grinned.

"I sort of figured that one out," Dean said. "Really, Sammy, get some more rest."

"You too," Sam said and let out a harsh cough that had Dean pounding on his back.

"I'll be fine," Dean told him once the cough subsided, but obviously that wasn't good enough for Sam. Sam slid himself over in the bed and then pointed to the empty space now available.

"Lay down," Sam said. "Please. If you get sick too we'll both be in trouble." Sam knew Dean wouldn't refuse him now that he had laid on the guilt.

Sure enough Dean sighed and kicked off his shoes. "What ever you want." He grabbed one of the dryer pillows and lay down next to Sam who was still propped up. Soon both Winchesters were sound asleep.

0000000

Two days later Sam was still resting in his bed. At least he was now back up in his room instead of in the sweltering kitchen. He flipped through the tv channels looking for something even remotely interesting to watch. Daytime television really sucked. He finally found a movie on the sci-fi channel that looked promising. It was about a group of dragon hunters and the dragon had just eaten one of them.

Sam actually breathed a sigh of relief that they had never come face to face with a dragon. So far, dragons seemed to be the only thing in legend and folklore they hadn't come across. He hoped they never did.

Dean entered the room carrying a tray of food which he set down on Sam's lap.

"Here ya go," Dean said proudly. "Eat up."

Sam smiled when he looked at his lunch. "Yum, grilled cheese and Spaghetti O's."

"Hey, don't knock it," Dean insisted.

"I'm not. It's fine, really," Sam said with a smile. "The only thing that would make it even better is if you brought me some coffee."

Dean pulled the steaming mug out from behind his back. "Here you go. One coffee, black."

Sam grabbed the mug and breathed in the strong aroma before savoring the fist sip.

"Just to let you know, while I was making your sandwich, the snow plow came through. The road is open again. We don't have to leave, though," Dean offered. "With you still being sick it might be best to stay a few more days."

"No," Sam said. "Thanks for offering, but I think we should go…today."

"Are you sure?" Dean asked. "You're still not a hundred percent."

"No, but I'm at least seventy-five, and I don't want to take the risk of getting snowed in here again. After I eat I'll take a shower and pack."

"Sammy…"

"It's Sam, and really, I'll be fine. I'll rest in the car." Dean still didn't look convinced. "Look at it this way, the longer we stay here the longer we're off Dad's trail. We've no radio, no phone or e-mail, and no reception for our cells. For all we know Dad's been trying to contact us for days now and can't." Sam didn't really believe that, but he wanted to convince Dean they needed to leave. Sam felt guilty about them getting snowed in the second time and refused to have it happen again.

"Fine, we'll go," Dean finally replied. "But, we'll leave tomorrow morning. I've already watched the news and got the weather report. There's no snow predicted for tonight or tomorrow. This way we'll have time clean up, clean the house a bit, and then leave at first light tomorrow."

"Okay," Sam replied.

"Plus, we need to go to town and collect our last paychecks," Dean added.

"I think we should give the last ones back," Sam said.

"What!" Dean exclaimed. "Why should we give back $600?"

"Because the radio and both snow mobiles are trashed. They'll need that money to repair them."

"But we didn't break them. The ghost did."

"Yeah, but they aren't going to believe that," Sam replied.

"Sam, I know you're all for taking the high road and everything, but this is our money!"

"We have plenty of money," Sam said. "There was still over $7,000 left from the reward, and we have the $1,200 from our other checks. We're fine."

Dean ran his hands down his face and sighed. "Fine, we'll give back the checks we get tomorrow. I would just like to state for the record that you are a real pain in the ass."

"Trust me, we're doing the right thing," Sam said with a smile.

"Sam, shut up and eat your Spaghetti O's."

The End


End file.
